I've gotten past the point
Of reflecting on their happy smiles
In the midst of poverty.
I've gone beyond the thought
That they are happy as they are
Not knowing what they're lacking.
I've turned the corner now
Of allowing them to bless me more -
Not when I've so much to give.
I'm tired of them having nothing.
And I'm tired of the response of me.
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1 comment:
I get it. Hmmm, I've read through a couple of these posts and I'm enjoying them.
When I hit this point, however (the one expressed in the poem), I find myself depressingly ill-equipped. I look at the malady and then at all the "tools" in my hand to treat it - and in all honesty, I find very little that seems relevant.
I feel like I've spent my whole life being taught a huge basket of skills that are completely useless elsewhere.
Whatever the case... well stated.
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