Empathy

They said they admired my empathy —
It was a trait for which they praised me.
It made me have a sense of pride
For the way the world had raised me.

But sometimes I wish
Empathy wasn’t to be admired.
I wish we weren’t applauded for
Seizing feelings that make us tired.

What’s admirable is compassion —
Understanding why others act and feel.
But the notion that empathy serves
Is more assumed than it is real.

You can never get poor enough
to help the poor.
You can never get depressed enough
to help the depressed.
You can never get sick enough
to help the sick.

The only way to help is from a place of plenty —
of having enough to give.

I’m glad they admire compassion,
But I wish the praise would stop there.
To take on the stress and the weight of the world
Is not the only way to care.

If we really want to help,
Joy is the tool to use.
It isn’t selfish to bask in your bliss — sometimes,
It’s the most generous thing to do.

It’s simple enough to hear,
But difficult to remember
When you’re watching a world of people
Walk through treacherous endeavors.

You wind up feeling guilty
That your life is yours to live,
So you shift your mind and share in the worry
Because it feels like all you can “give”.

There you are, lost in stress,
Mistaking it for your own,
Hoping that it is helpful enough
To take it all on alone.

But there is no limit of stress in the world.
It doesn’t get traded or swapped.
You cannot take it from someone else.
You can only make more, or not.

You can compassionately live.
You can passionately fight.
You can bask in all your comfort and joy
While advocating for what is right.

It’s true what they say — that misery loves company,
But we’ve taken it the wrong way.
It’s Misery, himself, that needs more woe
To keep growing day after day.

You cannot do good if you do not feel good —
That’s all that needs to be said.
So next time you find yourself praising empathy,
Encourage compassion instead.