Sometimes, I really feel that empathy is a curse. Whether it's a situation with a personal friend in pain, or a response to an absolutely outrageous situation that demands political action, I can find myself responding so strongly emotionally that it can be very difficult to recover a sense of objectivity, and can leave me feeling teary and completely wrung out. I went through one of those situations yesterday.
I was having a hard time coming up with a poem for this diary, so I asked my heart what it wanted to say, and the poem below is what came out.
By way of comment on technique, I guess you could say this poem is an exercise in playing with cliches, with a literary reference or two thrown in as well.
Find the poem down past the orange divider squiggle.
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
Siege
Sometimes, I wish I didn't sense
Other people's pain
The way I do.
My heart at times feels like a big,
Swollen pin cushion
Beset with seams and reams,
Basted with tears, like diamonds
Shining with salt and suffering.
Have a care...
Have no choice.
Compassion is a thorny crown,
Stigmata not showing.
Stiff upper lip
For public consumption.
Sorrow plays out in private.
No wearing hearts on sleeves today.
Nurse the world's grief on your own time.
Hug your pillow,
Your courage, close
In the innermost sanctum.
Pull the bootlaces up tight
For tomorrow's forced march.
Endurance contest
Till the heart-mind machine breaks down.
Who will carry on then?
Ask yourself this.
Go not heed/heart/less into that harsh day.
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