By Jocelyn
All she has are a bunch of words.
she can use to form promises
but not keep.
She is stuck
in a box made of cinderblock walls,
and a window.
Outside, she sees life
Displayed like a Sandals Resorts commercial;
The early morning traffic.
The evening rush hour
she used to race to beat.
It all remains in motion.
Deals are being signed and sealed.
People are employed.
Children are in school.
While her days are on pause.
More like rewind, repeat, rewind, repeat.
She knows what to expect
and exactly when
to eat, what to eat, how to eat
when to bathe, when to speak, how to speak,
how to sleep, when to sleep.
Nothing
without a chaperone,
a 24/7 babysitter.
Once she was the spinal cord
that held her family upright.
The one they all went to
For any and everything
They viewed her as independent.
She’s dependent overnight.
Like a quadriplegic
Day and night, she prays
fearful they will fall.
and she won’t be there to catch them.
not from her box where she
daydreams and wishes.