The Gift The Toll

A lifetime spent in giving's gentle art, 
A heart that yearned kindness to impart, 
And honesty, a flame that burned so bright, 
And love, a beacon, shining in the night. 

I gave and gave, with open, willing hand, 
Love flowed freely across the shifting sand.
But lately, giving's well begins to dry, 
A weariness that clouds the spirit's sky. 

I wrote the words, heartfelt and true, 
Before the memes, when feelings still felt new.
I stood before the crowds, with hopeful plea, 
To lift their spirits, set their own hearts free. 

Yet here I sit, defeated, forlorn, 
By life's harsh winds, my spirit slowly torn.
My heart feels empty, though I wear a smile, 
A mask I don for just a little while. 

My friends, I loved, they took with open hand, 
Then left me freely, scattered through the land.
No blame to cast, no anger to ignite, 
The fault is mine; I failed to learn the light, 
The boundaries that should hold. 

I turned the cheek, I offered no defense, 
Gave all I had, at such a great expense.
No victim dwells within this quiet space, 
Just me, alone, in this familiar place. 

By Eileen Casey Gonzalez
March 2025

Image created by Gemini