TRAVELING IN THE WILDERNESS
enfolding my walking stride in warmth
I’m surrounded by a vivid presence
the world fetching fresh and fascinating
I have set out now past noonday
the joy of discovery always palpable
when traveling in the wilderness
my senses saturated and alive
there falls a deep satisfaction
that permeates this afternoon
my soul is full my mind is clear
my heart bursts — overflowing
I journey until dusk descends
heady with wondrous expectation
my stride is smooth and steady
into the golden downing sun
early shadows fall soft upon me
as vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes ’round my shoulders
splendid calm envelops me
yet there are other shadows
strange distractions
that disrupt my moments
they come quite unannounced
with still far to go
I am eager to journey
drawn by the beauty
the rising moon in sunset
into the evening breeze
I venture onward
vivid ambers and corals
spread across the horizon
again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace and focus
to draw up momentarily
nagging concern
disquiets me
a stab of panic
pierces my solace
bewilderment grips
holds me
uncomfortably
I must return home
a cloud of frustration
sweeps over me
obscuring briefly
my destination
then the fog wafts
and again I see
across the veiled valley
my hearth & home
but I wander
again I lose the path
as the mist settles
like a shroud
twilight is coming
much too quickly
and my concern
mounts gravely
a gathering fear
gnaws inside
I’ll not make home
before this night
I am afraid
to lose this light
I am afraid
to lose my way
I am afraid
this wilderness
I am afraid
rob kistner © 2020
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I wrote this piece to reflect the very early stages of Alzheimer’s, when the individual is not certain what is happening, and has not yet been diagnosed – but is beginning to become concerned, and the fear begins to rise. In some ways, this is the disease at its most devious. It is manipulating the person, yet they’re not aware what evil is overtaking them.
This piece seeks to emphasize that devious nature. Alzheimer’s is a sneak thief that subtly begins to disrupt our daily life, and steal pieces of time, creating a fractured reality — that gradually grows more and more unsettling. It then begins to rob us of our life-learned skills, our talent, our grace, and our dignity. Finally it kidnaps our memories, our loved ones — and then takes our life.
The stanzas here gradually diminish in size to reflect the diminishing nature of this killer. Bless all those stricken with this monster.
I watched a dear friend succumb to Alzheimer’s. At first it was just forgetting to show up for lunches and such, and for long she denied it, but it encroached exactly just as you have described. Beautifully drawn, Rob.
Thank you Bev, and sadly drawn… A friend, who was a drummer in one of my bands, did not know eho I was for a number of years before he finally passed. A beloved teacher, who I knew well. I fear I am hiking that path, so I have been tested twice. Yes, they say, I am exhibiting some memory decline — but nothing to be concerned about. Then why is my concern growing?
Rob both in form and in spirit you’ve illuminated a sneak that affects what seems like a giant number of people. I can see this in my mom and it is sorrowful to witness. She knows something’s akilter. At the same time, she says she’s at peace with whatever comes.
I’m sorry test results have you worried. Keep your grey muscle exercising to keep it strong.
I do Lisa, that is one reason I write constantly, and not just poetry. Can’t let my brain die — won’t!
I’ve seen so many slip away so slowly, given my career choices before retirement, Rob, and now –when I have increasing hesitancy about recalling names myself– worry about my own path. Thank God that –so far– it’s only names, and only names of folks I see only rarely and for tangential reasons.
Your work is a perfect exemplar of where that road goes. Thanks
I with you brother. 3 decades of diabetes, heart failure, 3 heart attacks, arterial sclerosis, and all the damned medication I have taken for years to stay alive — I am with you my friend. …and you are welcome. I write constantly, even through painful arthritis in my fingers, and shitty eyesight, because it is my journey to keep my mind alive. Arthritis in my fingers it seems has finally stolen my ability to create my mixed medium art, my Serenity Totems. They have also been part of my brain fitness regimen. Oh well, I keep fightin’… 😉
your description is both vivid and apt … this is such a cruel illness and they often wander and forget where and why …
It’s damned insidious Kate.
These lines speak volumes, Rob –
“twilight is coming
much too quickly
and my concern
mounts gravely”
I write to keep my mind an ongoing work in progress. I won’t let it slow down.
Superb piece!
Me too Eugnia… 🙂
This is so well written Rob. I love the double meaning throughout! Yes, Alzheimer’s is a sad disease. When the brain starts dying before the body it leaves us in a sort of Limbo! your poem shows so well, the disorientation that comes as a result!
Thank you Dwight. This was me facing the dragon I fear.
I began to write poetry during the last five years of my mother’s life. In so many ways it saved me. As her primary caregiver, I witnessed every change, difficult situation, the downward spiral … until she was gone. I held her in my arms as she took a last breath … and wondered why. Your poem touched me in a way loved ones know ~ all too well.
I am so very sorry Helen. Bless you for the strength you manifest to give love and support until the end. I am crying right now for you.
It’s a horrific disease, isn’t it, Rob?
I found it very effective how you went from a beautiful calm scene with such peaceful images as:
‘the golden downing sun’
to end up in a nightmare place. What do we do when we lose our grip on ourselves? It’s a difficult question to which I do not know the answer.
All we can do is hope it is never us, and have great sympathy for any family stricken with this destructive disease.
Wow, Rob – this is really powerful. I could genuinely feel my breathing getting quicker as we came to the end. The narrowing of the lines is a very powerful way of conjuring fear and anxiety. The ending tore my heart a little. Amazing.
It is a terrible terrible disease Sarah. The person’s essence dies but the body struggles on — and the horrific impact that has on the loved ones.
I feel the sense of loneliness here!
Yes Francis. Loneliness, confusion, fear and death are the tools of torment and lethality of this wretched disease.
I have seen the wilderness of dementia several times in my life: firstly with my great grandmother who was shut up in an asylum where I visited her most Sundays as a young child; secondly with my grandfather, who thought I was his sister who died in the war; and finally with my own mother, who died four years ago. I might find myself wandering in it in the future. Your poem touched me deeply, Rob. I like the shape of the poem, the way the stanzas dwindle away, and the way it starts with the afternoon sun crisp, bright and vivid, the soul full, the mind clear, and then ‘other shadows’ and ‘strange distractions’ are introduced, gradually taking over, a ‘dull confusion’ and ‘nagging concern’ turning to panic, bewilderment and fear.
So very sorry this terrible disease touched your life so frequently — I pray neither you nor I become WANDERERS in that dark wilderness.
The traveller sets out with a light heart
“my soul is full my mind is clear”
and alas the fear and dark are never far away, not least with the approach of any diminishing disease
“I am afraid
to lose this light
I am afraid
to lose my way
I am afraid
this wilderness
I am afraid”
These lines are a perfect mantra for daily life too though
With my writing poetry Laura, I challenge that fear everyday.
You captured so well the starting out with confidence and joy, and the growing unease, followed by fear. I have read quite a bit about Alzheimer’s. You have captured it so well.
Thank you Sherry. This poem arose from my trepidations about losing myself to this brutal beast.
I remember my Mother’s early stage, but it wasn’t until much later we all realized what it was… then it’s too late to talk about what would have been important.
So sorry to hear this about your mother Bjorn. This damned disease can be heartbreaking in so many ways.
You’ve expressed that “fractured reality” quite well here, Rob. It’s a frightening prospect that I hope never to experience.
I’ve had memory issues all (and I do mean all) of my life, mainly in details. While it’s worsened in the last decade, I like to think it’s a mild progression. So far, I’m “satisfied” it’s just my ADD giving me an occasional poke.
I am glad to hear that you understand the nature of, and can manage your ADD Ken. The “knowing” means a great deal in minimizing the negative traits. I have a blend of ADD & OCD traits that I unknowingly learned long ago to deal with. When I was young ADD was not well understood. The traits of my combined conditions have worked both in my favor as well as against me. Wasn’t until well into my adult life, when I was being treated for depression by a wonderful psychologist, that they were explained to me. The unusual ADD ability to hyper-focus and the need to have perfection in the things in my immediate control, have helped me in my art, my 3D designing, and my poetry. However, they have been a real challenge many times in my daily life. I’ve been taking 150mg of Wellbutrin-SR once daily for many years, and it seems to help me. Not recommending, just sharing.
I know this feeling well as my mother and aunt both suffered from Alzheimer’s. As you say, at first subtle, and then confused and afraid. It is like being in an unknown wilderness.
So sorry about your mother Kerfe. And your Aunt as well. This disease is insidious.
Sorrowful. That’s how I feel when reading this piece. A disease that slowly chips away at a person, bits falling away. I feel rather speechless.
There are no words Misky.
This is so poignant. We are going through the early stages with my father these days. It’s emotionally taxing. Sigh.
My heart goes out to you Sanaa. May peace find you all.