by Christopher Clauss

This gift is not perfect
I do not struggle to remember
This gift is not mine
Help me know both
to be true

But what I have
let me share
What I am blessed with
let me store up, tender
only to pour out at the right time

Let me not be a match
burning alone between fingertips
however bright the light in the moment
Give me kindling
vision of the inferno to come

So many others
unlit in the shadowed spaces
yet still worth the labor of ignition
Let me notice
Let me work

And should the earth swallow me
let it not be for nothing
Let me never have chosen to seek
refuge in this cupped hand, brilliant
but too afraid of the wind