YOU GO BACKWARD
By Christiana Rosenthal
You stepped off our timeline and into your own,
Drifting through shadows where memories have flown.
Sometimes you remember things that are dumb,
But the names of your loved ones — you can’t place even one.
You look in our eyes, but you don’t recognize it,
The love that surrounds you, you no longer prize it.
What’s inside your head is no longer clear,
It’s not that you’re gone — it’s just you’re not here.
You go backward, but your disease goes forward,
We can’t reach you no matter how we move toward.
A tension line broke, and now you just float,
In waters so deep, we’re barely afloat.
You go backward, and it breaks our hearts,
Losing you slowly in vanishing parts.
Repeating questions, again and again,
Can't follow the plot, can't remember when.
Pictures come down from the wall, you stare,
At faces you knew, but there’s nobody there.
Sometimes it’s a name from ten years ago,
But today's connections just don’t seem to flow.
You can't make the link — which name, which face,
That part of your mind’s been erased with no trace.
You go backward, but your disease goes forward,
We can’t reach you no matter how we move toward.
A tension line broke, and now you just float,
In waters so deep, we’re barely afloat.
You go backward, and it breaks our hearts,
Losing you slowly in vanishing parts.
It’s cruel in its nature, a slow, silent thief,
A decline of you and our own hidden grief.
I watched my grandmother go through it all,
Now it’s your turn — my husband’s mother’s fall.
Heartbreaking, painful, disinterest grows,
Even love can’t reach where your spirit goes.
Left alone, you’d wander, you'd fade, you'd be lost,
And every small moment now comes at a cost.
Can’t walk without stumbling, can’t find your place,
Accusing the air, mistrust on your face.
If we take it personally, it cuts too deep,
But we whisper our sorrow each night in our sleep.
It’s almost impossible now, recalling the past,
But the moments we have — we try to make last.
We hate to see you suffering, fading this way,
Each hour a memory further away.
You go backward, but your disease goes forward,
We can’t reach you no matter how we move toward.
A tension line broke, and now you just float,
In waters so deep, we’re barely afloat.
You go backward, and it breaks our hearts,
Losing you slowly in vanishing parts.
Yes, you go backward — and it tears us apart.
