Your benevolence,
forgiveness, and largesse
may someday
transform you
into less of a
noble stump
of the Giving Tree
and more of a fixture
in an old
public restroom.
Abusive and abused,
one by one,
they will come;
they will
need you, not
beseech you.
They will spill
all they reject
from their guts,
and then flush—
and expect
you to simply
exhale,
and refill.
And yes,
by grace, somehow,
no matter
how many times
you swallow,
the well in the middle
of your soul
keeps refreshing.
You alone know
that the level
imperceptibly
draws lower
and closer
to the drain line
each time.
