no feeling is final

This is by a patient of mine with early late stage dementia, who was a poet for most of her life. Her new poems are dictated to me during writing workshops I run at my hospice job. She hadn't written since her diagnosis. This is one of seventeen poems I've written with her so far.

I’ve been doing poetry since I could write but I do think she was my only teacher.

Working with her was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I mean it when I say you all are so lucky to get even this glimpse at the majesty of her work.

In her words from another poem (not posted):

I am not the only creature watching

All of this,

Drinking it in.

I have a companion,

The cat who sleeps in the backyard

Is watching, too,