Poetry Blog by Tulak Hord (compassion)

I was not there when he was made
I was not there when he was born
I was not there for his first birthday

I was, there to guide his first steps.

I was there when his mother voiced her disdane and pushed him away.

For the tantrums that felt eternal

The sick days that became my sick days

I was there as his father began a new family and forgot about his last.

When he had no food to...

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