Don’t ever under estimate the power of you.  One look or touch.  Or poem or prayer.  You can make a difference for someone.

I cut this little poem out the newspaper when I was 13-years-old.  I can’t say it is what sparked my interest in poetry.  At that time I had already been writing (and thinking!) feverishly for over a year.  But it did make me think a lot about perspective: The voice of  someone who spoke for one who could not speak.  And about finding beauty even in death and sadness:  Somebody loved this poor cat for the sheer reason that nobody else did.  Loved him enough to write a poem.

For a busy world, the poem was a quick-awe-isn’t-that-sad-but-sweet enough.  For a very serious young poet, its message was deep-deep-deep enough.  I’ve kept it all these years–folded and stuffed into a very special old book.  Every time I read it, I take comfort in knowing our world will never be too big or too busy for us to stop and simply love.  Nobody’s too small.  Somebody cares.

That’s a lot of something.

 

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