Life, Poetry

You, Me, and the Pain We Can’t Heal

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You run for me to chase you but slow down and look over your shoulder if I don’t catch you soon enough to smother you with kisses and hugs.

You repeat the things I say with a garbled, squeaky toddler voice.

You sit as close as possible when I read to you.

You pat my arm when you want to comfort me.

I pour love into your heart, and you pour love into mine.

Yet, halfway around the world are children who were burned with chemicals until they choked and died, and I ached to hold them and heal them, and I could not.

And I don’t know what this means.

You, me, and the evil in the world.

You, me, and the pain we can’t heal.

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