Something is playing Jenga with my Brain’- Shelagh reads a poem describing how dementia can make her feel.

Hi it’s Shelagh Robertson
I’d never thought of doing a poem on Dementia Diaries until the last Zoom call we had so here`s on I made earlier.

Jenga

Someone`s playing Jenga with my brain
The first piece out was numbers,
But the space it left was filled by my voice
speaking loudly.
Then sight went (inaudible) stairs became slides,
rugs became deep pools
and that space was filled by anger,
fueling change.
A quick removal, reading became harder
I who had read along with breathing
But I learned to listen and hated what I heard.
Stigma and dismissal
a darkness and its showing less confusion
Dead or alive those I love so much
Here or not here pain either way
Tears fill that space.
Someone is playing Jenga with my brain.
The tower that was solid is crumbling
I feel it sway.
The wind blows through the spaces
Going, Going, Gone.