Ave Maria

Giving,

It’s more than just living,

It’s a random act,

Not just a simple fact.

 

In retrospect,

We give only to receive,

And receive not expecting,

To give.

 

But giving is much more than we imagined,

Something far beyond our reach,

Helping someone with lines for the Christmas pageant,

Or buying someone a peach.

 

It’s more than material,

I think I know,

Giving is a thing,

That wasn’t made a long time ago.

 

It’s an act, but at the same time not,

It’s a fact, but at the same time it’s not often thought,

Of as something large,

Or as something small, even.

 

Set back

To 2015,

When everything

The whole world

Turned upside down.

 

For me, at least.

 

On the way,

back from Amish Country,

Not sure why they went without me,

But now I thank whatever being is in the sky,

And I’ll make sure to tell you why.

 

Hit from behind.

The car was totally smashed,

Bashed,

Trashed.

 

Nobody knew it was true,

But it was,

And I still wish it wasn’t.

 

My grandparents in the car,

Wishing they weren’t.

 

Constantly thinking of how it could be different,

Wondering what would have changed it,

An event, to others, seeming insignificant,

I didn’t hesitate to throw a fit over it.

 

Emergency room in Akron,

After all the action,

Dad driving up three out of five days of the week,

Chances of grandma keeping her left leg seemed bleak.

 

Grandpa was better quickly,

But still hurt all over,

Still seemed sickly,

Weekend getting closer.

 

Dad spent most of his time in the ER,

It seems like we could thank our lucky stars,

That we were able to come out in one piece.

The day we were brought peace.

 

That day didn’t come for a long time,

Sometimes I wonder when I’ll ever find

That day where I’m content with my situation,

That’ll be the confirmation that

Everything is actually okay,

And I can move on to see the next day,

Without wondering how I could begin to think

The situation would be over in a blink.

 

People give.

People live,

Strive to be collaborative,

But forget to really give.

 

It isn’t skin-deep,

And it isn’t something you can do in your sleep.

 

People gave to my grandmother, Janet.

They seemed,

To her,

Like the nicest people on the planet.

They’d make wonderful thoughts fill up in her head,

Like the nurse who sang her Ave Marie on the foot of her bed.

She told me recently it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard,

And how this small act of kindness could brighten someone’s day,

And how someone could change something in a different way.

 

If this story brought even a tear to your eye,

I beg of you, please, don’t cry.

This story is meant to remind you,

That someone needs some giving to.

 

So, if you feel like life is bland,

Try to come hand-in-hand,

With something bigger than me and you,

Because, in the long run,

It might come back around, too.

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world

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