It is difficult, with the warmth of a small dog in my lap;
to write about the stream of
terrorized, displaced people
fleeing xenophobia
Freezing. Starving.

Oh, how hard it is, in my rocking chair by my fireside;
to compose a poem
about a manโ€™s anguish
forcibly restrained
from entering a burning house
to save his wife and children.

What a burden I must bear, such choices I must make:
What shoes to wear to afternoon tea?
I have an avocado that must be used!
Wherever did I leave my rings?
Have you seen my keys?

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38 thoughts on “WOE IS ME!

  1. Don’t feel badly. As they say – we can only write about what we know. And who is to know whether than man who is restrained from saving his children, may not day write a poem about it. Even if that poem be writ in the book of life, and kept in the annals of heaven. Enjoy your tea.

    • may not some day write a poem about it… Also maybe the doing is the writing and we thus each of us live the poem within us……

      • I read the article. It said he jumped from an upper story window. This is not to detract from his pain and suffering, and the terrible guilt that he may feel. When their stories are with us, we may of course, feel compassion. Even empathy. But if we allowed ourselves to be seriously, and personally affected by every story of desperation and pain that happens, we would also soon be on suicide watch. The pain of others, as your poem on the subject shows, does make us grateful for the mercies that have been granted to us; and sharing without breaking down ourselves other’s grief, may help us in time of our own woe, to pull through the difficulty, and see our own pain in a better, or with a Buddhist ‘more detached’, perspective. Your poem was an excellent statement, in itself, and the thought it expressed very worthwhile to note and say.

      • Sounds like it is ‘close to home’ in more than a physical sense. When the tragedies of others affect us to such a degree as this, it does truly become a learning experience for us, and may enrich our capacity for compassion. I join you in saying a prayer not only for the man, but for the family, the wife and children, that we all have lost. All the best Cindy.

  2. Indeed. We have no clue. Please read my post yesterday, and, if you can, place a link to it. Or copy it here.

    Hugs! (We must go for that tea next week!)

  3. No one seems to know where this old saying came from, but I grew up with it:

    “I cried because I had no shoes… until I met a man who had no feet.”

    It is all, I think, perspective.

      • Perhaps, Cindy, some day he may be able to apply the following adage to himself:
        One day, if you persist with your wish to learn the truth of yourself, you’ll be able to say, “I know so much now about the nature of pain that it just can’t hurt me anymore!”

        There is never a good reason to give up effort to develop more fully the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity!

  4. Thought-provoking as always.

    Who can tell whether that persona which is ourselves is not about to face a similar situation, or has not faced one such many times before?

    We should allow ourselves to dwell upon it only if we can, as a result, help with a solution.

  5. When I see others live as I travel…I realize my many blessings…you’ve addressed several key issues in such a matter-of-fact way that the contrast strengthens the message…well done.

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