The Naked Truth

I’m naked!
Can’t you see?

Naked as a jaybird,
exposed,
unclothed,
reporting for duty.
Naked as I came.
Naked as I will go.

No! You’re wearing your
Navy pants and blue-striped shirt.
Can’t you see?

But it’s too late.
Dementia’s in the house.
chewed up,
swallowed up,
spit out whole,
without warning,
or trace of resemblance,
to Harry and Adele’s
second oldest daughter,
bride of Jerome,
the woman who climbed
a mountain and back,
with six children in tow.

Degenerative,
Delusional,
Demented.

Case Closed.

An insidious conundrum,
a malicious malady,
a vicious viper,
burrowing far beneath,
leaving a trail of devastation,
while the walking wounded
search for higher ground.

Who are you?
Why are you here?
Where is my daughter!

And scene.

Disrobed, divested,
bald and bare,
raw and exposed,
she dances in the air.

Will they know me when I come,
Naked and splendid in all my glory?

I shall dance on wings of light,
and carry your heart in mine forever.

Even as this candle grows dim,
its eternal flame grows stronger,
magnetic,
fierce,
it remains,
as constant as the Northern Star.

Unyielding,
infinite,
incomparable.
A mother’s love
burns unrelentingly,
long after this
earthly light is extinguished,
it will shine on.

Yet, as this insufferable
silence grows louder,
I still wonder:

Will anyone ever love me the way she did,
as she lay naked,
exposed,
in repose,
Waiting to go home.

View All Stories By Jill Rachel Jacobs