I want to turn into your sunrise,
and the sunset that kisses you goodnight.
I want to be grass
that grows on rolling hills that lead to open fields
where you harvest your tomorrows and your victories.
I don’t want to be the plow, or the earth, or the expectant wife, but
the seed that grows, lives, and dies to sustain you.
I will burn in your fireplace, your happy children never knowing
the origins of the warmth.
I will turn to bread and fill their bellies, so you never know the burden of a hungry family.
I will never look on your smile, but I will be its true source,
the light in your lover’s eye,
the jelly on your children’s sticky hands and grinning faces.
I will be your profit, your success.
I do not want to feel your wealth and be glad for it;
I want to give you wealth, be your wealth,
and I do not want you to know it.