Tag Archives: compassion

Some days

Some days 
it feels like
she is the open wound
of the earth,
red raw and bleeding,
washed over and over
by the salty sting
of falling rain.

Cut, grazed and bruised
by a universal pain
that takes a child 
from its mother
or a father from his sons
before they have barely
to talk about this life.

Some days
she doesn’t know how 
to stop 
the bleeding, or
tend the wound
or how 
to pretend anymore
it doesn’t hurt.

Some days
it is all she can do
to butter the bread
put on a smile,
fall into bed,
and practice being
for it all.

Out in this world 

Multiple voices perform
          out of tune
Their noise is painful
      to her ears
       and heart
Skin, too thin
     to shield her
          from arrows

The space between 
    this self
and the one they perceive
         her to be, 
    v a s t  a n d  w i d e

The space between
   this self 
and the one she hoped 
      to be, 
    v a s t  a n d  w i d e

She seeks only retreat
    and trusts that
  wisdom, and compassion
      will arise
  in the emptiness 
       of this space.

Under fire

The gaze of another
can appear like a cloud
with the power to drown
this flailing body

The scrutiny of the few
can pierce through skin,
already white paper thin,
and leave their mark in blood

Ammunition, marked by the critic
turns upon itself, ready 
to inflict the harshest of words
upon a tender and open heart

But between the battle lines
of a war that started long ago
lies a spaciousness, where gentle 
and compassionate hands and mouths
wait, to take you home.