Im like the proverbial person who complained about his shoes until he saw a man who had no feet. As I try to nurse my own broken heart I read about those who have none My spirit is dashed My smiles have diminished Then I read once again about concentration camp survivors and read that their spirit was dwindling but not abandoned They were able to rejoice upon being freed But had to go into deep mourning after finding all their relatives, friends, cherished neighbors had perished. They had to find a purpose to go on, a purpose to shout attention to the atrocities the unbelievable cruelty unheard of the starvation deprivation humiliation not for the squeamish or faint of heart The strength in such unimagineable torture came from somewhere deep inside, never having to be tapped before. So my pish posh pain doesnt hold a candle to their strength. As long as I keep remembering not to complain about my shoes I can concentrate on those who have no feet. mgs // malka golda
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 07:28:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015