"My motherland has lost her marbles..."

A sudden onset of dementia -

my motherland has lost her marbles.

She wanders into neighboring countries

(though she will swear she was invited),

yet, nothing catches her attention.

She isn’t moved by all the marvels

of golden cupolas, the sundries

of city markets. She’s short-sighted.

She passes by and leaves destruction

(though she will swear that it was godsent),

as building crumble into mounds

of concrete slabs and twisted metal.

The whole thing seems like a production

of some low budget flick, - the constant

sounds of explosions, and the rounds

of ammunition that won’t settle.

She crosses school yards in a stupor,

where second-graders with long braids

just days ago were playing hopscotch

or hide and seek. Where did they hide?

She can recall how as a student,

she too would play, go out on dates,

and fall in love. It’s all a hotchpotch –

her memories collide and glide,

but each one - clear, the present – hazy.

She’s gone too far and lost her tracks.

She does not know just where she’s headed.

The earth, the sky – both hang awry.

She’s in a daze. She’s counting daisies.

It’s of no use to call her back.

She walks into the dusk, bowlegged.

She’s searching for a place to die.