May we teach our children
the love for the unloved things-
the bee and its sting, the out casts,
an ugly duckling.

Children who sense rainbow needs rain
and find muddy puddles fun
as much as they ran
under the warm summer sun.

And when they're grown,
may they see kindness
has no color, shape, nor size
To listen to unheard utters-
a bird's forgotten musings,
the wind's coldest sigh,
a breaking heart.

May they keep pacing with the slow
to reach a place where
all beautiful things glow.

And when they learn to
love the unloved things,
May they be fonder
Of all gentle things
And be the ones.

As my time comes to an end
the trees take me in

no longer camouflaged
i become the leaf,
i will visit this world when the light appears
i will grow strong

i will give my self to who ever needs my body
they will be part of me
i can recover
my feet are firmly planted

when my time to sleep draws near
my colours will change
i withdraw with the dimming of the light
my carcass will be absolved into earth

i watch
i listen
i feel
I

You have always been selfless and done good for others
Even when you were the one that needed rescue
You've helped those in pain
Helped those in misery
Tell me
How is that going for you?
You've done so much
Helped so much
And for that
Thank you

Please don't be sad
You're legendary
You've done pure things, great things
So things will come around Eventually
I hope your future is a little less crazy
And a little more heavenly

Thanks again for losing your sanity
Just to make someone else's day happy
You deserve more praise
And maybe a raise too.

Stop trying to help people so much
It only gets you in trouble
I guess

What is raw?
What is real?
What is simply making it worse?

All these wounds
Never heal
Because time can’t go in reverse

I can write
All these things
About how I used to be

Let it out
For a crowd
So they can all see

But it won’t help
Not one bit
If they know what’s deep inside

All it does
Is make me
Regret that I even tried

His mouth forms a wide smirk
as the others laugh at his words.
But it isn’t funny.

She lowers her watery eyes, glasses slipping
down her nose.

Book pages flip
in the breeze that picks up.
She loses her page.

His mouth opens, sharp daggers sliding
from his lips
Their laughter echoed by the trees.

She gets up, stumbles, falls.
Lines of carefully thought-out words tumble to the ground
his foot stretched out in front of her.

Their hands reach for the pages.
Fingers wrap
Around worn bindings.

They play tug-of-war,
trying to pull it out
of each other’s grasp.

A rip.

Papers scatter in the wind.
Snickers fade with the footsteps
as her eyes rain tears.

I bend down.
Papers fill my hands
one by one.

She looks up.
The sun lights up her clouded eyes
as she takes the faded pages,
in her grasp again.

The support which.....
Was missing....
Life felt like disbelief....
When everything was.....
Turning black.....
Someone stood up....
Gave relief.....
And a way......
With a future so bright....
After passing the......
Inspiring tunnel....
There was no need....
Of any light....
Someone gave....
The helping hand....
Felt like a warm hug....
In the midst of......
Utter coldness....
Which gave rise to....
Confidence and.....
Boldness.....
Loneliness and sorrow.....
Were overcame....
By....
Love and care....
So that....
Person can laugh....
Smile and cherish....
The moment....
Which was brief.....
As someone....
Gave the....
Relief.....

mother
we are cut from the same cloth
you and i
we do not know how to be anything but
the giver
the helper
the lover
who bends over backwards
with no fuel
we split ourselves open for others
and wonder why it stings
when we sew ourselves up again.

Esther L. Krenzin

In an ideal
joy-and-happiness-society
would every person
be compassionate and helpful
to others
to facilitate the joy and happiness
of others?