OYSTER

Stoic she sits As an oyster lacking a grain of sand No Pearl of Great Price or wisdom to share. Stoic she sits A smile adorns her face while we hold hands, Bereft of thought and without words to spare. Stoic she sits Cloudy sapphire eyes show nary a care. Oblivion’s glide left her a blank stare. Stoic she sits Time’s wrinkles scribe not the soft silken face Of the hollowed woman who remains there. Stoic I sit

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Sam Kauffman

Date: 6/25/2024 11:17:00 AM

David, you have penned a splendid metaphoric poem. The image of the empty oyster shell, no longer able to produce a pearl, has a hard-hitting impact. It is so pensive and tears at the core heart of a loving heart watching a loved one disappear into dementia. It is tender yet striking in its feeling of falling into an abyss never to return. Your last line leaves an indelible impression of helplessness. This is wonderfully crafted with rich artistry. Blessings to you!

Susan Ashley

Date: 6/17/2024 11:17:00 AM

Dear David, your poem is beautifully expressed with artistic, profound use of imagery and metaphor, so rich so soulful. Your moving poem illuminates the devastating effects of dementia on the person affected and those who love them. The heartache and heartbreak in your verse is palpable and your tender yet potent imagery is truly impactful. Your last two lines hit my heart hard. Such sad splendor flows from your golden pen. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan