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Charitable Irony
I long to do a kindness for another,
But when I try to give, they will not take
For seeing in my eyes a sadness greater,
They'd rather not this cruel exchange partake.
As though I were a lamb with wounded knee
Surrendering its meat to others feed,
The hungry ration morsels meant for me
To help me of my gloominess be freed.
Yet, soon this irony brings sweet relief;
Like bitter lead transmuting into gold,
As laughter births from self-sustaining grief,
Letting my gifts, at last, be freely sold.
So now my smile comes with charity
For better is the gift if truly free.
But when I try to give, they will not take
For seeing in my eyes a sadness greater,
They'd rather not this cruel exchange partake.
As though I were a lamb with wounded knee
Surrendering its meat to others feed,
The hungry ration morsels meant for me
To help me of my gloominess be freed.
Yet, soon this irony brings sweet relief;
Like bitter lead transmuting into gold,
As laughter births from self-sustaining grief,
Letting my gifts, at last, be freely sold.
So now my smile comes with charity
For better is the gift if truly free.
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