Charity
(for normal people)
The old King James word
For love
It can permeate
In the old-fashioned way
A cloud of knowing
For a change
When giving has a cost
It isn’t easy
Whether it’s largesse
Or widows’ mites
Giving ‘til it hurts
I question if there is
Meaning in that
But giving as a passion
New kind of love
Not ‘til there’s nothing
There will come new rounds
But with awareness
There is feeling
There is healing
Florence Nightingale
Who sang not her praises
But encouragement
While wandering the battlefield
Clara Barton in the USA
Doing the same
Could you give that away?
I couldn’t
But I have a mite, maybe two mites
Someone may have one
It wouldn’t hurt
(so much)
Especially if I knew the story
I know, there is belief
Cynics are smart
And should have their way
While everything is suspect now
So it might turn from mindful giving
Into something mindless
Sometimes
Sometimes
Give anyway?
There might be something
In surprises
C L Couch
Photo by Maheima Kapur on Unsplash
and is that the world turning in the center
February 26, 2020 at 4:39 am
this poem reminded me of a Mitch Albom quote, “Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you’re not really losing it. You’re just passing it on to someone else.” I believe it is true, so as your poem, too! Stay blessed, brother!
February 26, 2020 at 7:24 pm
Blessings to you, sister! And thank you for quoting Albom and the insight. That sounds right. Nothing’s really lost, particularly what is given, especially what is sacrificed.
February 27, 2020 at 3:46 am
Agreed!