I saw my father helpless, hopeless
When the flowers began to wilt the moment they would grow

"can you draw it?"
I lost my ability to hold a pencil a long time ago
"can you write it?"
But how do I write a language I do not know

The bitterness turned to despondency
The pendulum oscillated between rage & hurt
My words broke in half long since
so I put them in an iron box, & buried them in dirt

And now I open the box & see only rust & ashes
For now all of them are lost
__

You know that feeling when you want to say a common word, but can't think of it in the moment as much as you try? Now imagine that, but all the time, for pretty much all the words.

Aphasia is a form of brain damage to the language processing part.

My Dad had aphasia for years before he passed. He struggled to say even a single word to communicate his thoughts & would often struggle to understand what was being said to him. This artwork has been in the making in my head since before he died.

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