When you visit someone who’s dying
and the person can’t or won’t or doesn’t
say anything, and you’re sure
nobody’s home, no light in the face,
no motion from the lumpish body,
you ask yourself why you came.
Then something tells you
you can’t know who’s there,
and maybe wanting company at the end.
The voice goes on, tells you:
No matter what happens
I am for this person in the bed,
and for you. This voice says:
I am God. This is what I do.
Olympia Friends Meeting (NPYM)
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