Primary Progressive Aphasia

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When words

no longer emanate

seperate

from thoughts and mind

caught within the

gray

forever

trapped inside

always remember

the once control
of tone and timbre too
of alliteration
incantation
creativity pursued

the finest brush can only stroke
until hands do shake

the loss of words
just another
cruelty of fate

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4 Comments
CleardaynowCleardaynowover 10 years ago
Very nice, very fine

Well, is nice the right word? Yes, I think so. The poem captures a part of our lives and does so both well and gently.

MzFlyMzFlyover 10 years ago
Oh wow

Such a terrifying prospect. Can't imagine living that reality. I could definitely feel the anxiety and fear in this poem too.

Oldbear63Oldbear63over 10 years ago
Yeah.

It's a horror, Lesse. Sometimes people live too long. Wife and I have decided that it wont happen to us, and hold to that promise inspite of where we are now. Can't imagine it.

LesseloovesPeterLesseloovesPeterover 10 years agoAuthor

My bff just found out her great aunt, once a poet herself, has PPA in which one's brain losses its ability to create and process language. This thought horrifies me and found its way into my writing.

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