I have me a sister whose every report
Is she’s fit as a fiddle and couldn’t be better.
Her world is the best of all possible places,
No matter she could be as mad as a hatter.
There’s nary an ache or in truth a discomfort
Can shake her resolve to be perky and bright.
A blissful deflection is her go-to gambit
For saying as little as naught of her plight.
“Your name would be what now? solicits the nurse.
“I think I’ve mislaid it,” my sibling replies.
Inflexibly wordless she knits up her eyebrow,
Repairs to the haunt where a pet bluebird flies.
Not even if you shook a very big stick
Would my dear baby sis move herself to disclose
What dwells in her head at this moment or that,
It’s doubtful that even her very self knows.
(c) 2026 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved
Oh dear – it must be a hard time for you but there’s a consolation to be found perhaps in your sister’s ‘blissful deflection’. Best wishes to you, Jim.
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Yours is a good insight, Sue. I read my little verse to her before posting it, and she laughed heartily. Returning cheers and regards your way.
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Perhaps your sister has the right way to deal with life – laugh heartily at everything! (if you don’t, you’d have to weep at the state of the world right now).
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Laughter and dialogue are antidotes to despair. I’m still trying to figure out how to be attentive to world events without allowing my worldview to be curdled by them. Cheers, Sue!
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A devastating portrait of someone slipping away beneath a facade of cheerful optimism and denial.
Very effective. And affecting..
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Thanks once again for a sensitive and close reading. The effort to articulate the challenge of divining what’s in a loved one’s head is its own kind of assuagement.
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