Brian’sPoems

The Gifts Keep Coming

If all you got for your anger
was a heart attack,
this would be gift enough.
But of course the gifts keep coming
in failed relationships,
in lost jobs,
and in hopeless addictions.

At some point many of us
are gifted the promise of waking.
We may then decide to relax,
let our edges become dull,
start taking a closer look
at what it means to be alive,
and how all things are connected.

Still enough of us don’t bother
to open our clenched fists,
choosing instead to double-down
on a loser’s hand,
while complaining when the house
takes all of our money.

Do everyone a favor,
when that first cool, fall breeze
sweeps across your forehead,
let go of your anger,
giving it like trees gift their leaves
to the autumn wind.
Then celebrate all the gifts
you have received
but have yet to acknowledge.