Life was easier before Poverty had a face

Poverty has a face. I've seen it and lived in and around it. She has hands and feet and an empty belly. He has a laugh and tears and lives under a bridge. These people have names and their faces flash through my mind on a regular basis.

When I was naive about the concept of Poverty, life was easier. I could spend my money without thought of others. I could live my life with seemingly no consequences to others. I could function in our modern society without feeling isolated and strange.

Now when I bring up the subject that pulses through my veins, I'm greeted by blank faces and defensiveness. If you want to throw a wet blanket on any situation talk about poverty. It's the conversation killer of all time. When I've asked God to break my heart for what breaks his, I had no idea how isolating it could feel. Now I'm plagued by actually caring. There are people out on this planet by the masses suffering and dying and I CARE. I haven't fully walked in their shoes (for those that have them) but I've sat next to them. Bandaged a few wounds. Prayed for their healing. Listened to their dreams.

In the mix of the holidays I am greeted by these flashbacks. I've been out THERE long enough now that the emotions and experiences have fully stuck. I can't escape the full reality of our brothers and sisters around the world under layers of comfort, entertainment, and ignorance.