Those Who Look Away

From the compassion I received in youth,
I carried the belief
that suffering, once witnessed,
would call forth a response.

I imagined that anyone
who had studied the world long enough,
anyone who had opened books
and followed the stories of others,
would understand what happens
when a person cries out
from a place of deep injury.
They would move toward the wound.
They would offer whatever they could
before the damage spread farther.

I believed the sight of hunger
would awaken mercy,
that the sight of cruelty
would make even strangers tremble,
that the suffering of another life
would become impossible to ignore.

Still, there are people passing by
with reasons they carry inside themselves.
There are voices buried beneath blankets.
There are children waiting for rescue.
There are creatures looking toward us
from the farthest reaches of existence.

Perhaps the greatest sorrow
comes from discovering
that seeing and understanding
are two different things.

A world may reveal its wounds
again and again,
while countless souls continue onward,
as though nothing has been shown to them.