Shukr

I am not grateful for the stars
That around us swiftly swirl.
I am not grateful for bazaars
That sell us necklaces of pearl.
I am not grateful for the feet
That take us to circles of light.
I am not grateful for the wheat
That makes the bread in which we bite.
I am not grateful for the One
Who gives us hope in life and death,
Nor the one who none have outdone
Nor for the words that filled his breath:
How can I ever call myself grateful
When I am ungrateful for being grateful?

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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