My Gift

My Gift

It’s not often that many think of this gift,

While through life’s trials we twist and shift.

Trying to do the best that we know how,

To make it to the next level, that’s what many vow.

We’ve struggled through minutes, hours, and days,

Celebrated, shed tears, but no fears did alay.

Our emotions through fractured moments of time,

That caused me to pray from within at bedtime.

Has my time been of some benefit I ask,

As I turn back the covers to rest at last.

There isn’t an answer that I can clearly hear,

Nothing spoken to me, no whispers floating near.

In this silence as I sit on my bed,

I remember the conversations, words that were said.

Were the words I spoke encouragement to some,

To inspire, to help anyone seeking help I’d assumed.

I wonder if someone's life was touched, hopefully so,

In a positive way by the gift, I’d been given decades ago.

It came neither wrapped not with ribbons nor bows,

It came in a manner as other gifts like mine were bestowed.

I’ve carried my gift within me o’re these many years,

It has remained anew to me even through the tears.

My gift that is invisible and no one could ever see,

My gift of life that dwells deep within me.

I often remind myself that it was free,

And at no time to take it lightly, this life within me.

For to live is to experience all that’s freely given,

And to share it abundantly remembering what was forgiven.

By: Dan R. Fowler

For: Astrid