Compassion.
We
watch
and listen,
stand witness to the circumstances
     that ravage other hearts
and our own are stretched




beyond the comfort of the familiar.
We respond,
our actions scripted
by the very word
we seek to live:
com-passion – “to suffer” “together”.
But more ancient roots
bind us to a deeper truth,
a primal connection,
the rhythmic pulse that takes us




    back to our beginnings,
the womb out of which
 life pushed us forth.
There,
  for a time,
  was oneness,
    satiety,




untroubled truths.
May our
     hearts
       open
       with
compassion,
create a womb of peace
for those whose lives are stark with terror,




  riven with discord, bleak with despair
that they may
sense connection,
sort
   through
     troubled
        truths,
and
find a
fullness
they had
lost.
And may life,




                       in due time,
push them forth once more
even as it opens its arms to receive them.
Fresh.
New.
Alive.

Rechemet compassion