All I have is this poem

My aunt is in the hospital with pain related to her pancreatic cancer and I feel so utterly helpless. There isn't anything I can do to make her hurt less. And I am so bloody far away from New York. My hands are raised up and I want answers, dammit! I want to feel some certainty in this day and know that everyone is tucked in bed safe and sound. These spoke-halting moments I can't figure out and I can't get right seem to be a symptom of my inner futility. The only thing I can do is go back to this great Miller Williams poem.

Love Poem With Toast
Miller Williams

Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.

The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.

With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting not to have cancer,
wanting to be home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,

as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.

from Some Jazz a While: Collected Poems, 1999
University of Illinois Press