I Don’t Give the Way the World Gives

First, notice. Still the body, still the mind.
Open my eyes. And what is there? Sunlight.
Give thanks immediately. It’s so kind:
You're dying, and it isn’t always night.

The hospice nurse is here, but in the dark
He is another obstacle I curse.
Death has come to my house to leave its mark:
Sponges and trays; pills and checks to disburse.
I need your help. Like always. No. Like now.
But you are lost in furrowed sheets and skin.
So I will smooth myself out here somehow
And find a way to bring the sunlight in.

I’m mad at you. That’s why I meditate.
O Lord, use me, though I can’t concentrate.

J-T Kelly is an innkeeper in Indianapolis, Indiana. He lives in a brick house with his wife and five children, his two parents, and a dog.