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.