Forgive me, Mother-Father God,

for my impatience:

He is slow getting there, mentally and physically,

I still move quickly.

I hurry ahead, then have to wait.

He doesn’t hear, I have to repeat.

He reads aloud the same news,

and I sigh because he told me already.

Forgive me, Mother-Father God ,

for my anger:

that this is my life now

every day, years undetermined

that I have a dependent shadow

that my tone infiltrates my voice,

my gestures.

Forgive me, Mother-Father God

for my self-pity

poor poor me,

trapped in a hamster wheel

of sameness and repetition

even though there are many blessings to count:

the comfortable, fine house

the warm sun

the birds

the kind, but confused man

who loves me still

Forgive me, Mother-Father God,

for my fears:

asking, who will help me?

Who will help him without me?

How long before the bodies fail?

Who will care for us then?