Written for those who cannot understand the suffering of this world.
It is beyond human comprehension and we all struggle to find some meaning. Most of the time, we are left empty and our compassion becomes overwhelming. Many rush to bring their caring to the fields of sorrow. Most often, the world watches mesmerized and desensitized and hundreds of thousands die; sometimes millions. It denigrates the soul of mankind. But generations come and generations go and nothing changes.
The answers, I believe, to this conundrum, are not to found in this world.
Suffer not o man she cried desperate for consolation
Compassion twisted and tore at her heart
but the world she knew was silent.
Painful sounds from death filled wars, would wound her more
than jagged poison tipped arrows that pierced much too deeply.
And yet she carried on in quiet song as the world she knew kept silent.
And if the dying weren't enough, the sight of bloated bellies
and distraught mothers and sacked villages laid bare
by the unwilled force of child soldiers, would crush her spirit.
How could the world she knew keep silent?
Thinking that God did not understand her despair
She wept with abeyant tears that could not flow
as the world she knew kept silent.
To live, to die in the soiled spattered flow of time
passing through, passing through
Is the secret so sublime? Cannot she grieve?
Then silence no more was heard.
Instead a curious word within emerged
from her meditation of life's graces
a Hebrew word "Bitachon"
What was not known in agonies
was revealed in her silence.