Poetry
Those who know.
No quantity of suffering,
no matter how extreme,
particular or cruel,
excludes you from us.
Countless souls intimately know
all sharp shapes of anguish,
lingering tastes of sorrow.
The very same ones hear
warm music of gladness, leap
into heart-rush rhythm of joy.
They do not demean with pity.
Forever they offer compassion,
honor you as you honor others.
Listen, hear.
Observe, see.
Learn, believe.
Whom will we speak through?
What or whom?
Even the dead
are not immune.
Be ready.
Be ready.
Be ready.
©️Wry Welwood
8th of May 2011
re-edited 20th of November 2021
Author’s note:
10 years ago, as a counselor, I was ruminating over the multitudes of people who believe their pain can never be understood by others. The voices of living and dead suffering humanity (in italics) came to me. Pain may be unique, but suffering is universal. The illusion of isolation can be deadly.
~ ww