The first time I met him, he gave me the Sun

To provide warmth in my smile,
To send rays of compassion to all.
My weak arms couldn’t hold the massive responsibility.

He said even when I cry,
I still glow -- the gift of sunlight --
Emanating from my skin, illuminating his path.
The newfound air of confidence drew eyes in my direction
For the very first time.

He was the keeper of the Sun -- Helios on a chariot --
But I never understood why he chose to lift me up
On a pedestal of prominence, as if I, the insecure,
Quiet brunette could ever be expected to share
The gold of his touch,
The shine of his smile,
The luminance of his eyes.

Over time, I grew stronger,
And the Sun’s weight no longer fazed me,
As my head rested more comfortably raised up on my shoulders
Than it did hanging -- staring at my feet.
To carry it was routine,
Expecting generosity and respect wherever I went,
Strong enough to stand up if I didn’t receive
The warmth equal to what I gave,
And what he gave me.