One river gives
Its journey to the next.
We give because someone gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.
We give because giving has changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.
We have been better for it,
We have been wounded by it—
Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet,
Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails.
Its story is old, the plot worn and the pages too,
But we read this book, anyway, over and again:
Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand,
Mine to yours, yours to mine.
You gave me blue and I gave you yellow.
Together we are simple green. You gave me
What you did not have, and I gave you
What I had to give – together, we made
Something greater from the difference.
From A Small Story about the Sky. Used with kind permission of Copper Canyon Press.
We could point our attention anywhere – summer leaning into its most ambitious month, the…
I will praise my failures. I will praise What I have not accomplished and do…
—misheard line from a poem by Fernando Pessoa Be a blue whale with a heart…
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