Debt

The statement arrived
when I least expected it
just as it does every time.

Late, early
or right on the mark,
I am shocked at the accounting
that unfolds like paper
from an envelope
I am rarely pleased
to see sitting before me.

The balance is nearly always
negative numbers these days—
deposits never covering the withdrawals.

The gifts of kindness
become the childish game of take away
that leaves the hands empty with a jerk of greed.
The heart is turned inside out
in disbelief at the lack that is left
by such neglect.

Coins of anger and disappointment pile carelessly
in the corner of the vault that was once filled
with laughter and hope for wealth
overflowing with unconditional love.

The robbery was silent
and subtle as summer
slipping into fall—
frost taking the flowers of the field
with sparkling brilliance
only to wilt and blacken
into the memory of color.

My purse is empty again tonight
with no prospect of the strength
necessary to let me work
to plant the seeds of a new crop.

I am a beggar at the side of the road.
My eyes dare not look into the face of the stranger.
I cannot stand the pity I might find there.

I can only thrust my cup forward
and pray for mercy and the sound
of ringing metal like the gong
waking me from my sleep.