Worry and Toil

I’m so sad
Mom is stuck in bed
and it’s real close to the end

Sure wish it was another way
So she could enjoy some of her day
And not be sapped away
By no real chance to get up and play.

Just when we found a place to stay
That got her up on her feet
And gave her things to do
Her body says it’s almost through.

Even if she has not much thought
Part of her must be bored - I’m distraught Helpless again to hold up that tide Relentless, unpredictableness takes its place And drives us in its unknown race.

Against our hopes and fears prevails
Its own sure course.
To no avail our winding working
Worry and toil
Exhausted in its place gives space

With heads bowed we sorrow and Accept
no part of human effort effects
The slowing of inexorable advent
The leaving of the one we love
By unseen doors and windows sent
To open for their spirit path’s Ascent

We cannot follow there
that winding, climbing inner stair.
But bent in worry, toil here
To keep a watch upon the coil
Time-wound, as it slips away.

by Deborah Strafuss, age 59, Wayland, MA