"I'll Call It Blue" and "The Naked Truth"

I’ll Call It Blue

I never called it by name.
It was never mine to begin with.
My little problem,
My nightmare.
My illness,
My disease,
 
So I gave it a different name.
A protrusion,  
an inconvenience,
a trifling, stifling,
terrible turn of events.
 
Or I call it
Blue,
Tree,
Forgiveness,
or Humanity.
 
Like that annoying neighbor
who always shows up
at the most inconvenient time,
bearing no gifts
or discernable attributes,
you can’t wait for them to leave.
 
There’s no particular remedy
that would prevent future intrusions
by the uninvited,
since it’s too late to turn off the lights,
and pretend you’re not home.
Don’t bother to change the lock on your door.
The dead bolt on the door is useless.
They’re not fussy,
they’ll just chew through the floor.
 
My shadow is crowding me,
and has can become a nuisance
of the greatest magnitude.
You must not stand too close,
always maintain your distance.
Naming it is far too intimate.
 
I know!
I’ll call it
Bob,
Samantha,
Sage.
Or Julia.
 
I’ll call it anything
other than what it really is.
Because if I own it,
I may become it,
and it could win.
And that will never happen.

The Naked Truth

I’m naked!  Can’t you see?
 
Naked as a jaybird,
naked,
exposed,
reporting for duty.
Naked as I came,
naked as I will go.
 
No! You’re wearing your
navy pants and blue-striped shirt.
Can’t you see?
 
But it’s too late.
Dementia’s in the house.
chewed up,
swallowed up,
spit out whole,
without warning,
or trace of resemblance,
to Harry and Adele’s
second oldest daughter,
bride of Jerome,
The woman who climbed
a mountain and back,
with six children in tow.
 
Degenerative.
Delusional.
Demented.
Case closed.
 
An insidious conundrum,
a malicious malady,
a vicious viper,
burrowing far beneath,
leaving a trail of shattered dreams
and devastation,
While the walking wounded
search for higher ground.
 
Who are you?
Why are you here?
Where is my daughter!
And scene.
 
Disrobed, divested,
bald and bare,
Raw and exposed,
she dances in the air.
 
Will they know me when I come,
Naked and splendid in all my glory?
I shall dance on wings of light,
and carry your heart in mine forever.
 
Even as this candle grows dim,
its eternal flame will grow stronger,
magnetic,
fierce,
as constant as the Northern Star.
 
Unyielding, infinite,
incomparable,
A mother’s love,
burns unrelentingly,
Long after this earthly light is extinguished-
Even after I die a thousand and one deaths,
It will shine on.
 
Yet, as this insufferable silence grows louder,
I still wonder:
 
Will anyone ever love me the way she did,
As she lay naked,
exposed, in repose,
Waiting to go home?