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Haiku / Original / Original Poetry / Travel

has always been on my terms.
Private. When it’s right.

People sometimes wonder why I like to travel alone. The way it goes is I shut off for a few days, and I love it. Not speaking to anyone. Being silent to my heart’s content. But then I start to crave, and so appreciate, people again – taking in tiny sips of human interaction. A cashier here, a curious toddler there. Maybe I’m just lucky, but the strangers I’ve met in this state have restored my faith in humanity time and time again – and I’m grateful for this private super power, and of course, theirs.


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Haiku / Original / Original Poetry

Maybe your name is
on a wall and mine’s unknown,
but we do both give.

I met a guy once who said it was really important that the woman he dates volunteers in some capacity. It was an understandable quality to look for – certainly an admirable one – and it had me reflecting on my own benevolence. Though grateful for my time on organized Habitat-for-Humanity type trips and Christmas time food drives, those experiences impacted me far less than the smaller moments where I’ve given a literal starving artist a pen and paper, or sat and talked with a woman who lost her job due to bipolar disorder. Sitting blankly across from my philanthropic, kind-hearted date, he must’ve taken my silence as a “dealbreaker” – that I don’t volunteer, but really I’m in my head wondering if it’s selfish to be so inefficient with my generosity? Or is compassion in any way the right way?