This is a poem of sorts that I wrote to the theme of compassion. The Warriors spent an evening discussing the topic with the aim of writing poetry in collaboration with an organization called Petals of Compassion, which is raising money to rebuild homes in earthquake-struck Nepal. Check out their website for more information on the project or to get involved! Pain.
Without echo, It rips through The hearts and limbs Of all those who have been Both blessed and cursed With the depths Of their own humanity. Solitary silence Hides it's attacks But we are wounded, Down to the bone and to the soul. Through skin - white, gray, black, and yellow - Born to different mothers Bred in different places Pain still stains The lines of living On our human faces, Glints through eyes Deep and solemn Full of stories unthinkable. But if you have known pain, Then you have known the pain Of my brother too. You have heard the thoughts That seep into our minds When the dark falls. If you have heard The cry of your baby Then you have heard Mine cry too For you cannot divide The pain I carry From the pain in you.
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AuthorChicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird. Categories
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January 2019
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