I Didn-t Win Light In A Windfall

I didn-t win light in a windfall,
nor by deed of a father-s will.
I hewed my light from granite.
I quarried my heart.

In the mine of my heart a spark hides -
not large, but wholly my own.
Neither hired, nor borrowed, nor stolen -
my very own.

Sorrow wields huge hammer blows,
the rock of endurance cracks
blinding my eye with flashes
I catch in verse.

They fly from my lines to your breast
to vanish in kindled flame.
While I, with heart-s blood and marrow
pay the price of the blaze.