Who Chose Poverty?

I gave a hand,
yet some remained
where sorrow first found them.

Is poverty
an empty pocket—
or a weary spirit,
a silent fear,
a dream that never learned to fly?

Or has the world
painted its canvas so,
keeping some in shadow
that others may call themselves light?

I cannot answer.

I only know
that while wealth counts its blessings,
poverty still counts tomorrow
with empty hands.