I HAVE A SPLINTER IN MY PALM

I offer up myself again,
For nothing in return.
I stand here
With my hands full
Of all the little pebbles
And odd things in boxes:
The ribbons and pearls,
Fragments of sea-glass,
And bright bottle tops,
A scale from a dragon,
And a splinter from a wheel
Of a Voortrekker waggon.

I offer these up,
All these childish
Treasures
I have gathered,
And I tremble
Least I see them
Scattered
Or mocked.

These words
And dreams;
These foolish schemes
And baubbles,
They are all
I've got.

I have no more
Of value to offer,
Add or give.
And none
Of my treasures
Counted up
Are enough
To buy me
One spark of love.

But still I
Stretch out my hand,
Open my mind,
What ever the cost.
And if the dream be lost
It will not be the first
Nor the last.


Manuela Cardiga