Farmer’s Daughter
Her withered face
Not aged with grace
But balding scalp
Liver spots
Missing teeth
Like missing thoughts
White wrinkled flesh
Disappearing
Tiny goblin form
Hidden beneath the sheets

No more hunger
Only suffering
It’s no slumber
For in slumber
We find dreams
Rich with the complexities
Of our many identities
Mirrored masks of agony
Pure flights of unconnected fantasy
Inconsistent

But it’s persistent
Life interrupted
And never continued
The only ease
Is its release
From consciousness
Pain, Joy, pleasure
Apathy, anguish
Epiphanies

Dead siblings
Dead husband
Fading memories
With all their grief
Let them go
Let it go
Let it all slip away