Compassion

Sunny kitchen window
Beams the dining room
So clean and yet
A heaviness
Is here this afternoon

One by one I share my memories
A picture at a time
Part of me died when I met those refugees
And some part was alive

Pictures of the children
Clinging to my heart
Like they held onto my hand
When it was time to part

I left them in that grey dusk
I left them in their fear
That dirty building held them there
So far away from here

The Maker isn't satisfied
To sit back and observe
He hears the pain in every voice
Compassion in his words

In some small way I'll take that lead
To feel another's pain
Something so human about sympathy
We were made that way

Like a summer night and a front porch seat
That's where I'm supposed to be