How little the dying seem to need–
Adrink perhaps,
a little food,
A smile, a hand to hold, medication, Achange of clothes,
an unspoken Understanding about what's happening.
You think it would be more, much more, Something more difficult for us To help with in this great disruption, But perhaps it's because as the huge shape Rears up higher and darker each hour.
They are anxious that we should see it too And try to show us with a hand-squeeze.
We panic to do more for them, And especially when it's your father, And his eyes are far away, and your tears Are all down your face and clothes, And he doesn't see them now, but smiles Perhaps, just perhaps because you're there.
How little he needs. Just love. More Love.
Bedside Manners Christopher Wiseman
