A Thousand Little Gifts
Today I wrap you a bundle
of matches; tomorrow I wrap you a flame.
You have been brought in safety
to this bright new day and then
enclosed in some inscrutable
darkness.
So I bring you a thousand little gifts and lay
them at your door in hope that your eye
will catch the low gleam of silver paper and
you will think that it is a light somewhere and
you will remember that the light is with me and
with a flicker of desire you will perhaps
reach toward the handle of the door to
reach for me. I’m here.
But the hand of the Lord is heavy; your hand
is heavy too.
I wrap you a joke, one of your favorites, and
then an incantation.
Three days from now I will have no more
paper and I will lay myself down
to push my wishes underneath your door.
I will stay. Till I am all the way empty I will give
in, give up, give out, for
you, for give.
A thousand little gives. For you.
Photo by Ole Jorgen Bakken