Read Poems by Vicki Acquah

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Why Alzheimer's

Sitting blank with nothing to think on my mind
Feels like a dry well in my head.
Nothing old or new under my sun.
Thirsty for knowledge of anything;
I keep Pumping until there is a drip,
I stick out my desperate tongue to catch the 
hard-pressed moisture to hydrate my lips.
Now thinking that I had forgotten more than most people ever knew;
I ask myself what's the use? 
I realize that my empty well is 
God's own way of softening the blows of growing old.
But then what is worse.
Remembering the pain of the past?
Or the pain of not remembering my children names.?
Am I being subjected to indirectly forgiving folks? 
Although I think there'll be no grudges to hold, 
it will be to me like "Forced forgiveness".
Some people I may see and smile like a fool 
not remembering what horrendous crimes they 
have committed against my person.
Things I was waiting to take to God face to face.
In this instance, the man that married me and decided to beat me 
mercilessly in my face and 
made me lose my job and youthful beauty.
I needed to hold on to that pain until I got to the great arbitrator God... If I must measure cruelty
My husband was the worst offender against my person, 
basically because of my trusting his love.
Unlike the Nigerian stranger that kidnapped and abused me for what seemed like weeks.
I knew he was an enemy, and I will not honor his name with a mention.
Still, God has already dealt with him.
Yet being beaten by your lawfully wedded spouse, hurts much more than the abuse from a stranger; 
Where each punch in my eyes broke breaches of trust and severed marital bonds.
If I had not run away from my husband’s abuse,
I would have never encountered being alone and vulnerable with two children in a strange city.
  Those two black eyes made me an easy target.
I never wanted them to go unsettled, but somehow forty years later and a flimsy apology was too late...
So, to all of you who have transgressed against me...
My God has taken up the task... Loving you, or forgiving you is no longer in my hands.
Those who have berated, cheated or caused me to stumble in this life, 
caused me strife, and never tried to get it right; It’s too late.!
Because God created me to have joy, and through it all, I still remained sane.
Mainly because of the daughter I for him bore.
And God, I believe will play excerpts of these wicked scenes, of how you and your new wife mocked me as I sat side of her deathbed, as her spirit hovered over her to say goodbye before ascending. 
His relentless "evil will”, had gone too far-
He was still stabbing me, as I was coming to grips with my
most beloved daughter’s transitioning or leaving her body.
The Doctor said we should take turns; 
Yet, her father stood there mocking me whilst I was grieving;
Me her Mother never got my time alone, 
A foul odor accompanied the breath of his words.
Because you were her father, I will not condemn you to hell;
God will surely replay this scene for you, show you revelations of your violations, and why 
you may have to relive this earthly life again as a human.
For now, my mind is being wiped clean.
Your destiny is out of my jurisdiction for the choice is no longer ours to make.
If I am not the only one you've offended.
Try and ask them wholeheartedly to forgive you! 
As not to make the same mistake.
In the future, while on this earth if I see you and smile.
I have probably forgotten to remember
"that God is in charge" If I stare for a while.
As I hear blurry words...
“For what God had joined together was put asunder”
and if I seem quite chilled...
I may not remember what you did.
Only I and my children were forsaken,
and all others were cheering you on.
There is more to this life story,
those things that were forgivable I let go of.
But I swore I’d take this to God’s throne:
Soon, I may not remember:
Soon, like my mother
I may be protected from my thoughts;
Thanking God for Alzheimer’s;
that I may forget my regrets…
Yet, deep within my soul,
I will feel each blow-and
I will remember not what happened;
But, know how you made me feel".

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2018


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