Compassion

It does not

Reach down

And dole itself out

From a distance

It walks in

And sits close

And refuses to look away

It is not nice

It is not safe

When it invites me

To put my hand

In its side

And dash my foot

On its rocks

I am afraid

Its movement

Is the labor

Of the eternal Mother

Who pushes

And tears

The veil

Between

self

and

other