Unleavened
"...for I shall never know who I am if I am not loved." Edward Dahlberg

He held me in his hands and broke me apart
he ripped me in pieces and gave me away
It hurt to be used, but there was more to do.

I became humble, not the long starving vanity kind
but the ego removing kind
so I could get things done.

I remember your story about dragging the used Christmas tree home
along Pacific Avenue at midnight with your mother and brother
and how you were too young to be ashamed

And now you're old enough. But what are you willing to have in this world?
What of all the wonderful things which are rightfully yours
are you willing to claim?

What about me? I'm yours.
I know at night you sift through me
for the crumb of beauty you know is there.

And even though you were too young to know shame, she wasn't.
And still she dragged that tree home along Pacific Avenue
so you could have a nice Christmas.

I can see the mouths of the men at the table
They were hungry and frightened
and for that moment their stomachs and hearts were full.

That's humble. That's all. A moment of satiety
of taking what you are willing to take
and loving every crumb.
From this place there is no limit to our rising.