September 10, 2010
What does this ending time feel like? To me, it is feeling sick most of the time, and that is accompanied by the great exhaustion. I weigh 116 pounds and I look very ill. When I saw myself in the morning recently, it made me cry. In visiting with the hospice nurse about how one would deal with getting pills into the system without eating I asked, “Do you mean one goes forward, consuming pills and water and nothing else?” She said “That’s right. . .we are now into ‘quality of life'” and that does mean trying to keep the suffering down”. This morning, feeling particularly morose, I breakfasted on a large quantity of pills and water. Doable, but not delightful. The question that hovers over the experience is “Why?” Those of us who go onward encased in our present bodies ask again and listen carefully. This query must surely be made by humanity all over the world but the answer will not be heard outside of eternity.
Days move forward with the summer’s end approaching. For our eyes, it announces itself through the lovely gatherings of dusty pink sedum and the sagging goldenrods that edge our space on every side. Cardinals and blue jays provide some color and the sound of the jay’s morning scolds is welcome after a summer season so rich with sound.
I determined to write a short poem for each day that I go forward. Sitting and waiting is too grim. Immediately, I find true poetry is not an easy thing, a fact that has been brought to my attention through vigorous paragraphs in books gotten from the library. Since there is no intent to wave the poems about, I will just write.
And yes, the conversation with God has gotten shrill at times; mostly though, the respite of music that bears beautiful text is always there, and comfort is found. and when one wants to shake a fist, the psalms provide many good words for outrage and fist-shakings.