None Of Us Would Be Poets Poem by Shirley Harrison

There are those who write about love they've never had

what could have been?

forever wondering why, the spark wasn't ignited?

and why, what could have been their greatest love story

never even got to its beginning

never knowing that love

yet every day, every night craving it

then, there are those

who write about love that's lost

lost through the ripples of life's ever flowing tide

that sometimes washes everything away

leaving us heartbroken to the point

it feels as though our eyes are crying blood

and our hearts have been stabbed a thousand times

and yet, somewhere in the middle of all that

there are those who are content with what they have

never knowing nor needing anything

but that, in which they have

I wonder is it really possible for anyone

to really understand another humans pain?

to empathize or show compassion

toward that, they do not understand?

I'd like to believe it's possible because

without love…

none of us would be poets.