This time, last year

This time, last year

his mind,

the sharpness of

colors in contrast

crimson on downy white

turned

to all white,

like a blank page

he knew not how to fill

with words

a poem on his lips

but they wouldn't move

his eyes searching for those colors

as they assessed what life there was left

in them,

he saw me

he knew me,

sort of

acknowledged me proudly

then stared out the window

at his nothing world.

erin-cilberto

3/15/22

Reviews

[Dr. YumnaKay]

This time, last year I was trying to prove to myself that I can write outside of poetry, too. A year later, and I still think that poetry is the only thing I'll feel comfortable writing :p
'nothing world' - gives me the feeling of how the world has become for us after Covid.
Your piece had me thinking...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Yumna,
j.

[light and ashes]

I've said it once, and I will say it again....I love your style of writing. This seems like the narrator is almost looking at an image of himself in the mirror. It's a cool contrast and effect.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I appreciate your perspective, light,
thank you,
j.

[light and ashes]

:) You're welcome and thank you.

[John the Baptist]

This has the sound of one confronting an elderly person, possibly a parent, who is suffering from dementia.I imagine the scene takes place in some sort of facility, as the elder comes across as one unable to care for himself. When I worked at a chronic disease hospital I witnessed similar scenes numerous times. The relative stands there feeling helpless before the ravages of an irreversible disease. The person they knew and loved is basically no longer there.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, John....yes, it was hard to see it happening to him.
j.

[William Michael Reeves]

Here I am trying to figure it out. Who 'me' is. After reading the reviews I got a whole different sense of this. I wanted 'me' to be the audience of the poet. A poet who has lost his words. And we still review him generously but he can't care because the words can't return. The perception of others then added new thoughts. Interesting how that happens

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and "me" could be the audience for those who relate to this situation, absolutely.
thank you, Bill,
j.

[Vertigo Cat1111]

Wow, my gosh, I love this piece. The emotion in it, the darkness, it’s clear there’s pain here and you wrote it son passionately. It feels as if every time I’m reading a new piece of yours, I just love your style of writing even more. First off, the title was brilliant, and the beginning, feeling as if you can’t write, is written amazingly. But then the poem seems to be maybe about a loss, like others pointed out. The line ‘he knew me, sort of acknowledged me, proudly.’ That line holds so much pain, so much emotion, it’s truly amazing. And then, ‘then stared out the window at his nothing world.’ Truly heartbreaking and shattering. I would say more, but I would just keep going on and on how wonderfully this was written. Thank you so much for sharing, this will be going straight into my favorites.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very kind review, Vertigo...
j.

[Ted Kniffen]

Something I know all too well. My mother has struggled with dementia for several years and each time we see her is a new adventure. I could be anyone of her dead brothers or husbands, but seldom am I me.

A sad reflection on the last meaningless days.

A goo write j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your understanding words, Ted,
j.

[Patricia]

This is so sad, brings back memories of patients I had with dementia, so difficult to watch their eyes change, knowledge just drained from them, this breaks my heart.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

knowledge drained from their eyes....that is beautifully put, but so sad.
j.

[Gee]

Dementia, this is what springs to my mind when reading this and perhaps the last year's of your father's life Jacob.
How sad that dementia send s folk to the grave without memory of life or loved ones.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, and thank you, Gee....
I know you relate...
j.

[Gee]

It seems the reaper is hell bent on visiting each of us here at the cafe Jacob whether we like it or not

[JE Falcon]

"he knew me,
sort of
acknowledged me proudly" --- Boy, does this make me think!
This poem I read three times, then parts of it over. Nice!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words, JE,
j.

[Cherrie Palmer]

What appears to me is the muted colors that have lost their fullness.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Cherrie,
j.

[Cherrie Palmer]

🍎 for my favorite teacher