burnt offering

i deck the neck of my pain
with pearls. remember, beauty can ensue
from shattered chinas. some days, i offer my pain
to the gods as a burnt offering. if they rain joy,
i store it in the jug of memories. a reminder
that happiness once came in torrents. i have tugged
at life’s mayhem, got a scale to weigh its
uncertainties — now, i am the man slurping
whatever life bestows. blessings. anxieties. a gold-
smith assembling tools with scraps life tossed
my door. when i begin to chase shadows. when i ask
why life failed to give answers to my questions,
remind me, life is not my debtor. i have chosen
to be a man who clings to the thumb of grace,
who sings a ballad for his demons.