question

  Originally posted and written 2-19-2009

I hear this friend,
her mom is dying.
Soon 
she will no longer
hold her mommy.

I watch the tv,
stories of 

reaching,
grasping,
desperation
and I think…
how horrible for them.

I know 

divorce and
death and
poverty
are all around, 
most times not so silent.

My husband
feeds a huddled vagabond
on his way to the train
from a warm office.

The world is starving
and in Haiti
the 

only
hope
is what is eternal
where hunger
is 
no
more.

I see this
I hear it
I wince and
hear the stories and
watch
the tears
in my dear friends eyes.

So what right do I have to feel sorrow for myself?

What right have I
to feel unaccomplished,
incomplete with
no end in sight?

What right have I to
shed a tear
over little time for “me”
in a selfish society?

In Rwanda
there is
no thought to “me”
instead,
will I
survive

HIV to
raise my child?

And I sit
in my
comfy bed
at my
shiny laptop
with tears
in my eyes
ache in my throat…

wondering….

who am I that
I am
so special
special enough
to be sad

that I am not 
what I dreamed.
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