This is the story that the tribe, <br />sitting together crosslegged, <br />children at their feet, <br />tell about <br />the first gift <br /> <br />a man so loved his wife <br />that one day at that season of the year <br />when the sun is so low in the sky <br />that there is fear that it might disappear <br /> <br />and only the wise old men, say <br />this is the time for hope and prayer <br />and the sun will return the stronger <br />and we, the more joyful <br /> <br />this man so loved his wife <br />that one day he brought home <br />besides the daily food, <br />a beautiful thing he found <br />and gave it to her <br />because he loved her <br /> <br />and she, overcome by this <br />new event, kept that <br />beautiful thing carefully hidden <br />to remind her of his love <br />for many years <br /> <br />until one day, because <br />she loved her son so much that <br />she in turn gave that beautiful thing <br />to him <br /> <br />and the moment she handed it <br />to him, the beautiful thing <br />shone more brightly than the sun <br />so bright that he shone too <br /> <br />and the tribe say, they learnt from this <br />that gifts received are gifts unearned <br />but come from grace itself; they are not <br />magic gifts until <br />you pass them on to someone else <br />and then you are indeed blest by them <br />and grace surrounds you as the sun <br /> <br />this is what that tribe say <br />sitting there crosslegged, <br />the children at their feet <br />at this season of the year<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0004-the-gifts-which-gifted-on/
