Worthy

She sits at the lunch table with her good buddy a Greek fellow with no english she-a canadian with no Greek tongue- they commune like there is no tomorrow siding with each other against the staff who would wash them clothe them feed them so much like a child would behave She seems to glow with a radiance of innocence a sweetness wet on the lips of time held within a cocoon of dementia that robs her body and mind of life leaving a withering shell that breathes to live consumes nourishment to breath she knows not where she is cool hand of death nearer and nearer waiting patiently until her chin falls deeper to her breast and the shallow breath all but becomes inaudible and still. I in the depths of my being wish somehow she would snap out of it recognize me recognize the card game myself and my brothers now play with her the game of recognize the numbers~ She bides her time sleeping, eating, and watching desperate to recognize and hold onto the familiar "pleasantly confused" they label her out of an ignorance to truly deal with things "blissful ambivalence" another describes her and I shot out inside myself she has been more than this... she is more than these damn labels she is a person an integral part of the life of this society so deserving of respect and compassion. recognize the suits and it makes me sad that her mind is playing the final trick bluffed and lost