Still Myself
Oct 16 2023
Names have always been trouble.
How many times have I felt
that moment of panic
that seems to last forever,
when my ears burn
vision tunnels
mind races?
Was I ever any good
putting a name to a face?
But now, I'm searching for words
misplacing my glasses
losing the plot.
Writing lists,
then forgetting where they are.
If all we are is memory
then what becomes of me?
At what point
will I lose myself;
wandering
in a fog of confusion,
feeling that something is off
not knowing quite what?
Yet all the clever ways
I compensate.
And if I wait it out
— stop pressing, and clear my head —
I eventually remember;
in a flash of recognition
the word
will somehow emerge
from some dark recess of the brain,
reassuring me
that for the time being, at least
I'm almost all still here.
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