Comparisons

She listened so intently as they pissed and moaned,
complained and moaned, about the challenges they faced,
the obstacles they struggled with, the blahblahblah and
pity-me's until she thought that she would scream but
caught herself. She knew they didn't have a clue what suff'ring
really was. They couldn't, not with such a shallow offering
of troubles, competing for the toughest act to follow as
they wallowed in the mud that wasn't really mud at all.
More like some sand and water, bland concoction of
despair that wouldn't make a single person shed a tear,
were they to hear the story. But it's all a matter of perspective,
thought the woman as she sat and watched and interjected
leading questions, for she wanted to believe them, wanted
to retrieve the meat of what they wrestled with, congratulate
them on a job well done, but in the end, she couldn't find
it in herself to smile and nod and say how terrible it was,
because it wasn't. Pain abounds across the globe that
all the self-absorbed and self-indulged can't comprehend,
and so she sat there, knowing that compared to others
living in some war-torn land or watching as the children
slowly starved, deprived of love and other basic needs,
her own heart's bleeding...well..she would survive.
Compared to what these others all around were saying,
her grief would win, she knew (or not - perhaps they'd saved
the worst to trot out on another day) but also true that if compared
to many on the earth, she'd seem as self-absorbed as these.
And so she sat and listened quietly, and thanked her God
that although sometimes it was pretty bad, it could be
worse. It always could be worse. And it could one day
be so for these here, talking all around her, and she realized
that she was more equipped and well-prepared for what
could come than they, because of what she'd seen and
lost, and there was comfort in the thought. Not much, but some.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014