Caregivers
How do you know the discomfort is real,
If warmth or coldness wraps their faded appeal?
We turn the heat on; we turn it off—
That’s the demand of the sick and the frail.
What comforts to offer, what food to provide—
Will he eat soup or just a small piece of bread?
Is there a way to bridge this divide?
Are the blankets soft, do they gently enfold?
Are they too heavy or light, not keeping him warm?
The clothes feel uncomfortable, like stones in the morn…
Are the pills sufficient for health to be controlled?
The worry of caregivers wears heavy and long,
Yet each loving effort feels never quite strong.
With frailty and age, they wrestle with pain,
In their silence, the echoes of sorrow remain.
They cry and they cry… what a life…
You offer your heart, but it feels all in vain,
For the weight of their grief is a never-ending chain.
But know that your presence, your caring embrace,
Brings moments of comfort, a small healing space.
Though your best may seem lost in the shadows of night,
Maybe your love is the gift that will shine.
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