God Speaks to the Geriatric Convention
You should read the Old Testament
to see how old people
messed up my world
and the price
you have all had to pay
for it.
You should consider the idea of covenant,
the agreement to live
according to my laws
and what happens
when you don’t.
You should remember
that my justice and your justice
are not the same thing.
You should keep in mind
the words “abomination,”
“wrath” and “scourge.”
You should never forget
that I’m omniscient, omnipresent
and omnipotent—and you’re not.
You should imagine
that when you walk
through the valley of the shadow of death
that I am the one
who casts the shadow.
You should acknowledge
that even a good shepherd
eats mutton,
and that’s why
he leads you to green pastures
and still waters.
You certainly know
that if someone prepares a table
before you, someone
has to pay the bill,
and that the oil
that runs off your head
is expensive.
You’ve probably guessed
that goodness and mercy
are in short supply
and that your share
may not be available.
If you plan to dwell in my house,
you may need a reservation.
But be of good cheer.
Lift up your eyes
to the everlasting hills
and I’ll do what I can
to focus your bleary vision.
Raise your feeble voices
in my adoration
and I’ll provide a catchy tune.
Warble, wobble and twitch
into a dance of praise
for my grace
and I’ll tap and clap along.
Never forget that only I know
what eternity is like.
I hope you like surprises.
Have a good day.
Let’s Pretend
Each morning I arise and pretend
that I’m alive.
It’s a good way to start the day
even though the heartbeat’s a little slower,
the blood a little thinner
and the appetite fails completely.
Putting on shoes and clothes is an act of faith
that I will last out the day.
Swallowing pills is an act of trust
that my cardiologist knows what he’s doing.
Going to the bathroom
seems a waste of time.
I pretend that breakfast is nourishing.
I pretend the sun is shining.
I pretend that the clocks are working.
Nothing deters my imagination
as I sweep my porch,
collect the mail and pay my bills
As if I had all time before me
And it was just another day
out of a multitude of days.
Which it is
except each one could be my last one.
“Let’s pretend,” I say to myself,
“that I have a future.
Let’s pretend that there is much to be done
and that there is time for the doing.”
As I pretend,
I remind myself
not to buy new socks,
not to check out long books from the library
and never to buy green bananas.
A Morning Prayer in Old Age
Lord, let my knees bend
one more time.
Let my ears hear and my eyes see
one more day.
Let the words of my mouth
not be slurred.
Let the meditations of my heart
not fibrillate,
and let me breathe enough.
Help me to rise from my bed,
to bend over and put on my socks,
to stay upright while putting on
my underclothes, a shirt and trousers.
Help me to tie my shoelaces.
Grant me the strength
to descend the stairs
and sit down for breakfast.
Grant me the ability
to close my hands
on the handle of a cup
and on the handle of a spoon.
Grant me the skill
to lift the cup to my lips
and the spoon to my mouth.
Grant me the courage
to drink my tea and chew my food,
to swallow and not choke.
Sustain my attention
so that I take the right pills
in the right number.
Sustain the miracle of blood circulating
without clotting
and without the arteries closing.
Bestow upon my ears
the ability to resonate
to a Mozart sonata.
Bestow upon my voice
the power to whisper
this prayer aloud.
Bless me with thought
so that at noon
I can remember
what I prayed for at dawn.
If all is well, Lord,
when darkness falls,
Anoint my sleep
with the hope of rising
one more time.