What do you do when your eyes dim
and gray clouds cover the world
and you live to read and write and
admire the photos of your grandchildren?
What do you do with your time when
it hurts to read and the words dance
in crazy swirls that hop across the page
and you have stacks of books to read?
What do you do when you feel like
crying about all the lost joys that
you most recently discovered, knowing
that, in time, they will fade away?
What do you do when you want to write
but the words drown in a sea of gray
sinking to the bottom of a speckled pit
and fall out of your mind like dandruff?
What do you do when the world you used
to see disappears behind a distorting mist
that threatens to take away your freedom,
your driver’s license, your mobility?
What do you do when hope seems to have
abandoned you in your time of need and
when you are too young to fall apart and
there seems to be only a steeper fall ahead?
You cry, weep, moan and seek the company
of family and friends who will listen and
understand how truly great the loss is
and offer sympathy without comment.
You get down on your knees and pray
to the Lord of all, to the God of mercy,
and ask Him to give you a few more good
years of loving the printed page.
You think of all the good years that have
come and gone, all the places seen and
friends loved and family times shared,
and rejoice in the Lord’s blessings bestowed.