This is where we are (a poem)

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One day they’re up at 11, the next day it’s 3 then it’s 7

There is no rhyme there is no reason

I can’t tell you why, it’s only a season

“My head hurts, my feet hurt” “Where are my teeth?”

“I don’t want to do that just leave me be”

They may say “Thank you” and sometimes “please”

They are grumpy, they are sweet

they can be defensive without any need

At times I get frustrated I will admit

But this is where we are, you see

there’s no going back with this disease

My heart changes when I lay them down to sleep

I get the privilege to hear them retreat

In prayer they come awake like their old self divine

Their shell might be weak but their spirits alive

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