blood of their blood

as I contemplate changes
here today
I hear
my grandfather say
as he lay dying
from Parkinson’s
Sweet Jesus
this is some penance
you gave me
and see
my father’s eyes
when no one else
was looking
the weariness
the sorrow
of the unforgiven
and here I am
far from the home
they tried making
older than either
ever were
and blood
of their blood
with penance
still left
to pay