Who Is Amanda Poem by Patricia Kelley

She sat in the back of the Alzheimer's dining room.
Sitting entomb.
Rubbing her small tummy in circles,
I could tell she was hungry.
She didn't seem angry.
Her long thin gray hair shadowing her face,
She sat quietly.
Silently,
I tried to get a response.
As a renaissance of poems, scripture and songs,
I sung.
Then finally out of nowhere.
I start singing "She'll be coming around the Mountain."
Silence broken, she came here.
For this special moment, her lips sealed shut for seven years.
Her tears spilled.
She said. I use to sing that song to my granddaughter, Amanda when she was little.
Her heart filled.
To another place and time, as everyone felt chilled.
She spoke words of love from a special time.