I can figure how it feels for these people here
some are really old, decrepit and helpless;
others are sick, lonely and unable to talk
while some feel as if they’re abandoned.

In the morning I see them waiting near the chapel,
as they’re seated in their wheelchairs with wonder
perhaps it’ll be a surprise or a routine for them
having their breakfast with the same old stuffs.

Slowly as they’re wheeled towards the refectory
they hardly talk nor smile while everyone gets there
but with my usual greetings as I accost each of them
some wear a smile, others don’t mind but what matters
they’re all together while sharing the same meal.

In the chapel I see them as they line up in the aisle
being assisted by the nuns it seems they’re calm
with willingness to receive Christ in their desire
to take part in this sacred event, the holy sacrifice.

They’re always there waiting for their loved ones to come
some are happy while others may cry for they’ve no one -
who’d come to visit and spend some time with them
because for them it seems like an advent of waiting.

My heart goes out to them as I watch them eating
their helplessness connects me to what my future will be
to become old, lonely, and dependent in what I see
the pain of aging can evidently be question mark for me.