POEM 77: LEGACY?

He had skill and knew their path
Just one shot and a Jaguar is down.
But when he's gone
The hunter leaves his poverty to his gun.
Legacy?

How formless shapes 
Takes form in his hands.
Even artists do not understand.
When the life of the blacksmith fades
He leaves his poverty to his anvil.
Legacy?

She hawked her wares on streets
She go on hunger strike to feed her kids.
And when the widow's life no more remain,
She leaves her poverty to her children.
Legacy?