a (grateful) acrosticamazing, all theseblessings.carved and cut, this turkey reminds me of the richness of my life.dazzled, even if only for today, i open my eyes to theefflorescence of my life:family and friends, and others, who havegrown to love me, so often in spite of me; whohave forgiven me and moved me and touched me and changed me andinspired me.
juxtaposed against my complaints and whines, and the grudges i
largesse of my blessedness is laughable.
more than laughing, though, i am bent with shame,
nearly nauseous at the
obvious disparity in my blessedness and my
poverty at being a blessing.
quite overcome with the weight of this, i
reel and rock, but barely move. why am i
seemingly so stuck in this stagnant apathy? what does it mean, really, to be
thankful without also being active,
unsatisfied with the fat of accumalated blessedness,
vehemently committed to blessing others,
where and whenever they appear?
eXactly nothing, i expect, and
yet, what will i do, even now? i want to be
zealous in being a blessing, carving out richness for all these around me.