Gift of Life


Gift of Life

By David De Jong

You no longer comprise me
But despise me;
By color
By age, and whims
You size me
In an instant, insistent
You know you
Could do better
No matter,
The reason, the season
The place, or race

Each breath lies to me
Just taken
For granted, slanted
Until at last
My limbs are torn
Strewn about
Yet you shout
That it’s yours
Your might
Your right
Your fight

Until you stop
To realize
Purpose abides
In every heart
However faint,
Or quaint in size
How sacred this gift
The only one
You will see

I will be


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