We become what we choose

The sum of all suffering

I cannot close my eyes to the suffering in the world.
The cross of compassion compels my heart toward
the simple and the sick, to the lost and the lonely. 
The sum of all pain worries my weary soul and wears
away my innocent resolve to the edge of knowing.

When I hold my well-fed child, the cries of other
children, hungry and alone, a thousand miles away,
call out in raw voices that forever claw at my ears.
Their hunger opens the warehouse of my conscience,
but their pleas for prayers and penance are lost.

When I lay my head on a gathering of cushions,
my thoughts do not rest. My reverie is tormented by
visions of those weary souls who end on the streets.
I see their tattered ghosts, their sad imploring eyes.
But they fade gray away as I reach to comfort them.

There are times we must all suffer the trials of life,
 when fear and despair undermine our confidence.
There are questions and regrets that scornfully hang
over our heads, unresolved.  Not forgotten, but lost
in the cataract of confusion that claims us all.

© Chris Ernest Nelson 2026

If we are…

End of days