Morning Thoughts on Mourning, A Poem

It’s breakfast time
eggs and sweet potato hash
sit upon the table,
the steam rises
and I can’t help
but wonder
what’s on everyone’s table
at breakfast time.
I know the world’s not easy
in times of war
nor even in times of peace
and some – go hungry
I wish that I could feed
every hungry heart
I wish I could heal
every wound that bleeds
but I – often can do nothing
I eat and feel guilty
for how many times
has my treasured sleep
been severed by artillery
but that is someone’s life
someone’s story
and I can’t help but sometimes
read between the lines
and feel the pain that resides
between things that are unsaid
because their voice is stolen
it rarely makes it on tv.
I tremble at the thought
of others’ suffering
where wounds lay bare
and others look the other way
for your skin is not my skin
and your kin is not my kin
so I don’t care
and if I do, I pretend not to see
but that’s not me –
I spend moments at breakfast
pondering these things
and it would be the gravest lie
to say I never think of them
in all the moments in between.

(c) Sumyanna 2016


Photography courtesy of Morguefile


2 Comments Add yours

  1. you have a beautiful heart… i do feel guilty for my indulgences …one can only pray and hope …touching write Sum…love hugs


    1. sumyanna says:

      Trust me when I say you are not alone. We all have so much more than many but often do forget. Sometimes we just need to be reminded to be thankful – and to share, when we can. Love you Seema!


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