I was surprised
when Grandma lost her senses.
It was not like sleeping,
or forgetting a name.
She was bewildered,
in a wilderness.
Her voice pitched high
like a child.
People seemed not to notice.
They agreed to nothing at all,
refusing to acknowledge her confusion,
and then,
I too shared her terror.
She could not trust them anymore.
They implied
the nightmare did not exist,
and I said,
inside my silence,
Grandma, I am afraid.
Grandma,
you are going crazy.
Grandma,
I love you,
and I am dying,
seeing you die.
And thank God she died.
She went senseless and quivering,
like a little bird growing numb.
The cold entering its feathers
and silver oblivion
obscuring the brightness
of its pupils.
I decided then not to die,
not to go crazy,
or enter a door
when the end appeared,
but simply sleep without violence,
refusing to wake,
and turn on the darkness.