Everyday, I remind myself of the people I wish I could save. Family members, friends, complete strangers, all just in need of a little help. It might be financial, or maybe just a bit of emotional stability to help them make it through the day. I wish I could wipe away all their tears. I wish I could make the struggle less severe.
I offer what I can. Kind words, a smile, some kernel of hope, that I'm hoping will plant a seed inside them, so that something beautiful blooms. I give money to those who need it when I can, and try to offer a positive outlook on life. It might not erase the pain, but struggle is a solitary enough place without feeling bad about it.
At times, I get down on myself. I haven't even managed to save me, and yet I have all these bold aspirations involving others. But I remind myself of the power of will, which keeps my desire to help intact.
Currently, someone I really care about is badly in need. It hurts that I can only offer sympathy through my words. I wish I could do so much more. I wish I had the power to fix the situation. If she's reading this, I want her to know these things. That if she needs me, I'll be there. That distance, the past, time, nor money, hold no influence over my willingness to help her. I hope she knows that if I could heal this world, she's at the top of the list of the people I'd save.
It is painful to watch good people suffer. But if enough of us act, we can mend that pain. Help somebody, even if it's only by letting them know that you are with them.
Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet
