I was so small when I loved you, the world
seemed my body to me.
This groaning and creaking is ever slow to creep
- before, I knew all pain to be sharp and temporary. I knew
only yourself from the outside. In my stupidity, I
never asked: What is it like to to be you, in your body?
Stupidly, I never thought to ask.

I still think everyone should be given 1000 graces. You taught me that. The number is not, in fact, quantifiable.
It is infinite. Somehow, I never saw your body as a slow, wasting thing. You only showed me life -
now that I am older you sit in my dreams where you used to stand. And
fall apart
as if you've been alive all this time and
are now facing more certain
degredations.

When in fact you fell asleep very easily,
after a certain lethargy.
I was too stupid to ask you about this lethargy.
Only noticed and prayed to
God that he give you the infinite graces that you
had always been asking for.