Empathy, Sympathy, Caring

I may not have wrestled the same demons 
that you must fight…
	… but I have seen evil eyes glowing 
	in the fog-shrouded night.

I may not have fought my battles with the same sword 
that you must wield…
	… but I do bear my own scars 
	and know the pain they still yield.

I may not have walked in the place 
where you are now forced to stand…
	… but I have stumbled many miles 
	across rough and rocky land.

I may not have shed the same tears 
nor felt the same fears in the night…
	… but I do know the taste of salt
	 in a throat that cannot swallow for being so tight.

I may not have ached with hurts 
that are exactly the same…
	… but I do know the burn of acid 
	in my deepest veins.

I may not have finished the path 
that you now start…
	… but I do know the burn of the knife 
	in my own heart.

I will not claim to know exactly how you feel 
about burying your son, your friend or brother…
	… but I have lost many I loved, 
	and my father, and my mother.

I do not pretend to know, 
with me standing here and you standing there…
	… but I hope that you can tell 
	that I do sincerely care.

I pray you comfort, 
and healing, and peace…
	… and that God’s own grace 
	will bring you eventual release.

May his love and presence, 
and the closeness of family and friends…
	… bear you ever forward, 
	toward this hard journey’s end.

And from here clear through the door 
to life’s final home…
	… I pray that you may never feel 
	that you ever walk alone.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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