If I were sat on concrete throughout the day, curled cold in a doorway at night. If stone were my pillow, cardboard my sheet, and my blanket fell from the sky.
If I were hungry, huddled, cold, exposed; afraid of an unsheltered night. If I'd found a hideaway, been discovered, moved on; had nowhere else to go.
If I knew what it was to hunt butts on the floor, scavenge food from a bin. beg handouts from passers by. If I was hungry, thirsty, drained; tortured by bellies cry.
If my gloves were wet from shifting snow, my fingers froze to biting. If my feet were screaming, barely shod, my skin icebound in tattered clothing.
If I had to look down, was too ashamed to look up, was afraid of the look in their eyes. If I knew what it was to be guessed at, frowned upon, judged in a moment.
If the tables were turned. If I were Homeless. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion.
Poem by Cliff Letts. Read more Here
If my life had been torn apart by conflict. If I knew what it was to watch friends and loved ones die. Torn apart, blown apart, tortured.
If I'd been forced to leave my home, community, country. Leave a life time of people behind.
If my life, my children's lives depended on running, if there was little hope in the running but running was all we had.
If I'd had to bundle up belongings, a whisper of our all. Drag my babies through the night, throw them onto an uncertain boat... answer their cries with lies and maybes.
If I (we) survived the journey. Were thrown (traumatized) from a sea of hope into an unfamiliar (largely unwelcoming) world. Washed up, weary worn, stranded!
If my children now wandered barefoot in the rain, in the-there-that-we-had-run-to... rejected, hungry, hurting.
If I'd arrived at hope to find hopeless, and would rather we'd died in the there that we'd fled... than die in the there that we'd run to. .
If the tables were turned. If I were a Refugee. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion.
If I were old, lonely, unwanted, forgotten. Old; forgetful, childlike, demanding. Old; frustrated, sharp tongued, aggressive. If I were hard work...a burden.
If I'd been Marie; unloved, abused. Surrounded by hopelessness; voiceless. confused. If I'd known fear without comprehension. If my screams had gone unheard.
If I were alone; scared, unprotected. Nothing-to-no-one; wretched, neglected. If I were they that are!
If the tables were turned.
This is a #1000speak post. Thankfully, there are a lot of kind, compassionate people in the world. People who make a difference. People who give what they can, do what they can, bring hope to the hopeless. Not least the folks who write for 1000-Speak.
1000-Voices-For-Compassion is such a beautiful movement. There are so many contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you.
#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION
Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month
Thank you for allowing me to share
God bless you and all those you love