On the day we found out We surrounded you, A protective barrier like soldiers shielding their general. We hoped to keep you here with us, safe, But as I watched you digest the news, Alzheimer’s disease, I saw a battle of strength, anger, disbelief and shock Struggle within you. But on your face was what I’ve always known, That you were the strong one, The rock that kept this circle of family viable. And so you continued to fight. Now years later, You drift farther away from our shore. Your voice faint from where we stand on the shoreline. You are so far from us that We no longer distinguish the person you used to be From the person you are now, Drifting and bobbing on the water, A warrior’s death, waiting for only the torch. Your anchor no longer tethered to our ship. — by Rebecca Hill Bio: Rebecca Hill is a freelance writer who has published some poetry over her lifetime.
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.