In a world made of gifts, no oneis empty-handed or lonesome.The hands with which we accept andgive back are precious gifts themselves.They unwrap packages, pears, twigs,hard-boiled eggs, shoulders and wounds.Some beings lose their skins with gleewhile others hold the wrap tightlyas if strength grows in resistance,as if the skin hides the treasurewe need in order to create.We touch petals, water, small cats—everything—and fulfill our needswithout depleting the sources.The hearts with which we give our thanksradiate like trees and weeds,recognize kinship. We belongamid a ceaseless gift exchange.And some days we willingly knowour place, and some days we forget.
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2020 Susan L. Chast