Tag Archives: Compassion

What do you feel


What do you feel
With you delicate fingers?
What do you toes?
What tongue what eyes what ears you?
Your gossamer curls
Your crooked teeth
Who is like you?

I hold you close
I want to protect you.
I cannot protect you.
You are being eaten from within.

Your white face
Your trembling hands
Your eyes wet
What tears
Mingle with mine
We sit knee to knee
And grieve our imminent parting.

Though I hold your hand now.
The shadow of your hand
Memory pressed into my flesh
Will linger long after.

Will you remember me?
I share your fear.
Do you feel this tenderness?














Pain is relative.


Pain is relative.
A two year old cries from a skinned knee,
The worst pain experienced to date.
At ten, he fractures a bone,
And discovers a new benchmark.
At fifteen, his heart is broken.
At twenty, his heart is shattered.
At twenty five, a loved one dies.
The bar gets raised
And raised and raised.
The worst pain a person ever experiences
Is the standard by which all others are measured.

Some people are not afforded
This gentle progression in pain tolerance.
They are thrown to the wolves early
Predated upon
Eaten alive
And barely survive.

If someone is crying
Over a problem smaller than your own:
A failed exam,
An amicable divorce
Remember this might be the worst pain of their life.
Comparison is not compassion.















On Compassion

Watching Kato kitty be sick is difficult

I sort of understand his pain

It’s not like raging menstrual cramps are the same as recovering from surgery

But I know what it is to feel like shit

For hours

When all you can do is whimper

And you’re too miserable to keep fluids or meds down

And your world is just pain, and nausea, and the hope that it’ll be over

I know what that is


I also know

What it is to be alienated

To walk around with a little touch of a serial killer inside you

To watch people cry

And feel like some kind of unbreakable spirit

But ten layers down you ache to know that release

Respect and envy their vulnerability

And wonder what it is

To be human


We are made by what we used to be

I have been given this compassion

I am grateful

To have been there

And to be back

Even if it’s just

So I can give a cat sympathetic pets


When my mom died

One person broke through to me


She listened

She asked questions

But most important

She did not pity

And because she regarded me as one with strength

I was able to be weak in front of her

Because she had watched her father die

She had that perfect compassion

The kind that really means something


I hope to be