Time stands still in your gaze: you survive in a descending spiral, searching for preterite instants in mnemonic pathways. Your eyes see shadows. Your mind transmutes love in phantoms without farewells.
Dementia, like the blind worm, slides through tunnels in live matter. Is your yoke easy? You don’t answer. Seeking an outlet, you carry a child’s rucksack on an old man’s loins, packed with unfathomable images of your yesterdays.
Your destiny is Amphitrite with a child in her arms. Goddess of the Ocean, she breastfeeds aquatic creatures adrift in embryonic waters. Return to the cool green depths. You will have peace.
Sylvia Maclagan grew up on a fruit farm in the Valley of Río Negro, Argentine Patagonia. Sylvia’s poems have been published in Spanish and English. Sylvia loves nature and all animals and many of her writings are on these topics. Due to significant losses in her life she was not able to pursue a career, she ended up with painful Fibromyalgia, but poured all her grief into poetry and short stories. She has degrees in Journalism and Philosophy.