Its Name

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There is a lesson which we learn
While we are soujourned here —
With every ache in each heart burn,
With every crystal tear

With every acquiescence
Unwanted separation of,
Groans of convalescents,
Passionate pray’rs of love

With each tormented ones despair
Beloved justice never know,
With every shoulders’ burdened pair
In dread anxiety which go

On behalf some other of,
The lesson is the same:
The soul, the life, the heart of love —
Compassion is its name

The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:

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Ana Daksina

About the Author: Ana Daksina

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