Fog

I seek the sadness in the crowd of seven faces
I'm surprised by so many.
As a child I prayed every night
I asked God for forgiveness that only I could give
- but how do you forgive fear?
I stand inside this dead house sheltering 
my heart colder than the frigid limbs hidden 
in the coffin
Maybe one day I will forgive
but not today. The dead body will not change it. 
Then I remember.
You are still alive. 

––––

I’m having so much fun attending this writing class – I’m looking forward to the weekend just to read some of the other poems and meet new people. I have only managed a fraction so far and I am impressed by the talent that is here. Well done you folks!

Writing 201: Fog

Compassion #1000speak

Do you find it difficult to find compassion for your mother diagnosed with cancer? For a friend whose house was burgled? Colleague who lost his child? I’m guessing no.

How about the drug addict who broke into your neighbour’s house, the drunk driver who smashed your car or the stray dog who bit your boyfriend?  What about that smelly homeless man that sleeps on the bench in front of library and picks up cigarette butts or the group of boys that leave them behind?

I think to have compassion requires willingness to understand one’s feelings, life situation, background but also to learn not to judge too quickly or too harshly.

#1000speak

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Growth in wisdom can be measured precisely by decline in bile.

~ Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche