Somebody is always trying
to give me something.
A gift wrapped in bitterness,
a box full of lunacy,
a package of somebody else’s
troubled mind
with my name written on it.
Sometimes they hand it to me
with a smile.
Sometimes they throw it at me.
Sometimes they call it perception.
I’ve taken a lot of gifts
I never asked for.
Drama, resentment, chaos,
other people’s expectations
tied up with a pretty bow.
I took the gifts, hoping for
the best. But maybe I was just
accepting deliveries
that weren’t mine.
My sponsor asked me a question.
If somebody gives you a gift
and you don’t accept it,
whose is it?
I said, not mine.
He said, exactly.
So maybe that’s the trick.
Somebody wants me to carry
their resentment across town
and bring it into my house.
No thanks.
