You go on missions trips to third world countries.
You see the faces of the hungry, of the tired, of the homeless.
They haunt your dreams, they peak out of the corners of your mind in the most innocent of places.
You cry, you work, you try to do all that you can to make sure they have a bite to eat, a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on.
You dress their wounds and hold their young
You come home and feed homeless in the streets, you collect for shelters, you recruit, you send
Time passes, the edges of their faces fade into the sweetness of new memories.
The pain you felt becomes a memory something to be proud of, I loved so much it hurt
then you realize that when you say you loved
its in a past tense.
You forgot their faces
You forgot their pain
You forgot to do all you can
A picture on your fridge of a faraway girl is a small part
but you can do far far more
May this shame turn into action
May that hurt return
when you look into far off places may it be their faces that you see