as if it is, compassion
really isn't that big
of a thing. In fact,
it's so little, so muted
and innocuous,
so easy
to miss, that it's
difficult to resist.
It's less a flaming sword
than the edge
of a knife
where kinship meets
up with and annihilates self-
centeredness.
it's that end point
which knows—like a
rain blade knows the river;
like the youngest
frail animal knows
where its nest is—
that there's somebody
out there at this
very minute
in need of more help
than they're willing
to ask for—
or maybe, more help
than they realize
exists.
