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nivek Sep 2016
new pathways forged in the mind
electric spark enlightened dark
informed depth flash ignited fire
change of heart ascendant *love
Wolf is a symbol of guardianship, ritual, loyalty and spirit. Having the ability to make quick emotional attachments, it trusts their own instincts. We too should do the same, trust our hearts & minds, and have control over our lives.
When St. Francis encountered the wolf of Gubbio in 1220, he did not fear its coated fury armor and when the creature devoured animals and humans and became a force to be reckoned with, St. Francis  made the sign of the cross and went out to meet the wolf , one on one.  The crowd followed him from behind but as St. Francis entered the wolf's lair they held back,  keeping a safe distance, they could watch and not be harmed. The wolf at first rushed at Francis with open jaws. Again Francis made the sign of the cross and commanded the wolf to cease his attacks in the name of God. The wolf trotted docilely and lay at his feet. Placing his head on Francis's hands he listened to Francis:
"Brother wolf, you have killed men at the image of God, so now  you are worthy of death but if you make peace with us, we will forgive your past offences and you shall live.  The wolf bowed its head and submitted to Francis, completely at his mercy.  The wolf placed one of his forepaws in Francis' outstretched hand and the oath was made once ferocious wolf now behaved like a household pet.  Like the wolf, we too have our net worth, as compassioned  beings, capable of change.  So tell me, after reading this, where do you stand on the empathy scale ?  Are you going to help the wolf change, or are you going to watch him fail.
The End.
(when we all stand around and watch, we all lose)
Andrew Crawford Dec 2016
Small sound- suspicion suspends-
unimpressive form, poor pose pretends.
Dogmatic dreams descend,
fighting fostered- ****** fists fend.
End; explanations to expend-
in afterthought of actions brought,
can you make amends?
Shallow scars, these weeping wounds I tend
from hands I, hesitant, extend.
Compassioned companion, familiar fiend, this friend;
though virtue my vantage, destruction depends.
Disordered deception, incestuous trend-
integrity, honesty; all traits liars lend.
Expressing your ego, advance, apprehend;
acknowledged afflictions, i cant comprehend-
in self, sole survival, but still you offend.
Forgiveness my faultlines- can intentions contend?
Jaded or jealous, yourself you've disowned-
in pressures your problems, attentions atoned.
Unable, unstable, you're sand still, not stone;
no company's comfort; all same, just alone.
Though mind may revolve, these thoughts are not thrown-
my hospice and healing are stitches ive sewn.
Foundation unmarrowed in cancerous bones-
the frame of a house still could not be a home.
Caroline Shank Oct 2022
I am not a kind person.

At times
I trickle interest in what
you are saying.

Mostly
I wait for
noon on a hot
day.

The breath of a
thousand words
cannot reach

the craters of
stones dug
without care.

I am not a kind person.

Where you were,
dying,
it was
the nurses who
compassioned you.

My reflection was
hidden in the
still pool of your

leaving brown eyes.

I reek with sadness,
with the
penance of being

a ;ń/. alone.



Caroline Shank
AMarie Jan 2021
a cynic at best
believing life to be at odds with my purpose
believing life to be a circus
of amateurs mimicking my “greatness”

self-delusion is scary
but so is wasted potential

my compassioned heart
hardened by figments of enemies
out to steal my being, my identity

when it was never in a position to be stolen
Vicki Kralapp Jun 2020
Amidst the heirs and privileged sect,
who in this land have laid their claim,
and while we’ve dozed our lives infect,
with arrogance, has brought us shame.

We claim of freedom in our land,
yet turn away those bitter cries,
of those who need compassioned hands,
while leaders hide in cloaks of lies.

Our anthem sings of bold, brave men,
yet bullies all around us hide,
among the political select
and those with killing guns divide.

We’ve sold our souls to those in power;
to those who’d rather gain than lead,
we're ransomed in our darkest hour,
to greedy black agendas feed.

Our ransomed states cannot sustain,
the beating of our separate hearts.
Unless our world can join as one,
we’ll all be forced to fight apart.
Poems copy written by Vicki Kralapp in June, 2020

— The End —