Can I Hear It?

The world is weeping.
Tears fall down its face in a grey rain.
Fear abounds where anger resounds where pain compounds.
Can I hear it?
The world is hurting.
Broken dreams shatter on the hard ground.
Trust betrayed shies from love dismayed hides from hope too frayed.
Can I see it?
The world is gasping.
Shuddering, panicking, gaping for air.
Minds made dumb from hearts made numb from the endless thrum.
Can I grasp it?
The world is breaking.
Crumbling, shaking, freezing, quaking…
Hope’s warmth lost in the biting frost of too big a cost.
Can I stand it?
The world is dying.
Breathe exhales down a one way street.
Death still sings as the end bell rings as the darkness stings.
Can I feel it?
The world is weeping.
Solitary tears fall down a globe that is teeming with collective aloneness.
If only love would be the brand of an outstretched hand of one or two who would dare stand…
…and not walk away.
Can I ignore it?
© Emma McGeorge 2014

Give Me Cake

I wish I could justify self-pity.

Wouldn’t life be so much easier if I could complain about the angst and cry about the hurt and rage about the injustice – and be perfectly entitled to it all?

I wish I could justify being offended.

Wouldn’t it be so comforting to break down in tears and receive all the sympathy I want? Or to just spill out the anger and frustration and pain without worrying about anyone else’s feelings?

I wish I could justify being crushed.

Wouldn’t it be satisfying to come down hard on those who have walked all over me with no apology, and know that I am in the right? To make them see the error of their ways, and to receive the repentance and reparation due me?

I could have my cake and smash it too in the face of blind prejudice and cool indifference and downright injustice.

I wish I could justify all of these things – but I can’t.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I am coming to realize that I can no longer justify reacting to such affronts. Because this means that I am only seeing one person in the picture.

And that is me.

To indulge in self-pity requires me to surround myself with mirrors so that my own hurt is all that is reflected in my world.

To bristle in offense means that I am allowing another person’s words, false or true, to dictate how I will wear my feathers – ruffled or smooth.

To live perpetually crushed is to deny myself the simultaneous pain and joy of healing.

If I am truly honest with myself, I will see that my attempts to justify self-pity and angst and even anger will never work.

Because if I justify these things, then I must also justify something else that is equally undeserved and unfathomable and freely dished out without being asked for.

If I justify these things, I must justify grace.

And that is something I could never do. Not when I, too, am so dependent on the very thing I don’t wish to extend.

So does this mean I won’t fight? Of course not! But my battle will be in the spirit of truth and love – not one that seeks to pamper my sweet little ego.

Have I got this all figured? Heck no. Am I likely to react with grace next time? Um… ask me next time.

I’m only human, but hopefully I’m a being who is learning and changing and gradually overcoming the petulant demands of self.


Maybe I will sit down, take a deep breath and just eat that cake.

After all, some self-indulgences are good, right?