note to self (on a sleepless night after visiting at the hospital)

When old and dying I must not forget the faith
of the Son who did not know how near or far
the last breath would be, the cold clasp of death.

When old and dying I must not forget the hope
of the Man who suffered like any man, woman, child
in the private stronghold of the self, his pain his own.

When old and dying I must not forget the charity
of the One who lets me live under his sun
and brings me home to be with him in eternity.