Poem: December 21, 2019

Charity

I give because there have been some
times when I couldn't give,
and even more when I didn't give
even though I could, when,

I suppose, I felt entitled

to the enough that I had, and
for that I feel badly.

Even now, of course,
I do not give enough, ungrateful
as I am for

my warm house
with all its broken and leaking things,

for all the food in the pantry
I do not feel like cooking,

for the paychecks
within whose means I stubbornly
fail to live,

I give. Of course I give,
but not like one who does with less.
And yes, I have beed someone
to do with less, grateful for
the pieces at the edges of the plate

which may now feed my covetousness,

but I know better, and I am
self-aware and hopeful for
your forgiveness for the little that I give.