Shadows mean us no harm.
Their meager thoughts cannot
connect to our subtle minds.
Still they occupy our pure flesh
and invade our radiant souls,
desperately hoping to become
real beings like us. Their presence
causes us distress. How can we help them
in their distress without harming our selves?
What sacrifice can we make to give them
at least hope? I spend sleepless nights
wrestling with this need to help them.
I know you share this frustrated charity.
(This poem is a response to “The Shadow” by Baharak Barzin.)