It wasn't as though
We didn't see
What was happening,
Nor that we were
Desensitized to the brutality.
It turned our stomachs
And it made us squirm.
You couldn't be human
And not care.
But we didn't know
What we could do about it.
We felt that it was hopeless:
A thing beyond our control.
It gave us a sick feeling,
An impotent feeling.
That's why we turned away.
That why we're talking
So very, very loudly
About things that
Just don't matter.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Compassion Fatigue
Labels: compassion, Poem
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