Tag Archives: Challenge

To the Homeless…NaPoWriMo 2017 #16


To the Homeless…

I wonder where you spend your nights
when everyone is tucked in tight.
Are you still wandering the streets
with no safe place to lay your head;
a cardboard box to call your bed?
Dark shadows looming while you sleep,
beneath the moon and stars above;
were you someone, were you loved?
You’re not invisible to me.

~kat
(NaPoWriMo 2017 #16 – for the prompt: write a “letter”, a Nove Otto Poem – nine-lines with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic)/rhyme scheme: aacbbcddc.


A Blink – NaPoWriMo 2017 #15


look at us,
two old people,
achy and cranky,
graying hair, eyes dimming
i still remember when
and how and where we met,
a hint of summer in the air, raindrops
on pebbles, the solstice moon,
the touch of your hand on my back,
how your lips tasted
that first time…
i remember
a blink
the distance
in between,
the better, the worst,
the sickness, the health,
the day in, day out,
turns and twists,
it’s all a blur
and now there’s this
two old people
look at us

~kat ~ 15 April 2017
(NaPoWriMo 2017 – Prompt: write about the middle or on between of something )


Compathy – Friday’s Word of the Day Haiku

compathy.png

Happy Friday! Well here is a new word for you…”Compathy”, Dictionary.com’s Word of the Day. It is another word to add to your arsenal of “feeling” words like Sympathy and Empathy, but with just enough of a subtle difference that you may find yourself needing to use it more and more.  The suffix of all three words is –pathy from the Greek ‘patheia’ which means ‘suffering’ or ‘feeling’.

Sympathy’s prefix, sym- comes from the Greek sum or sún, meaning “with, in company with or together with.” While feelings are part of the word, it is possible to be sympathetic without actually feeling what others are feeling. For example one could be sympathetic to a cause. One who is sympathetic might be overheard saying, “Oh poor so-and-so…” and in the next breath commenting, “I’m sure glad it’s not me.” So much for sympathy. No wonder  we are loath to sympathy from others. It smacks of pity.

Enter Empathy. From the Greek ‘empatheia’, when one combines em + pathy the literal meaning is ‘in’ + ‘feeling’.  It’s a feel good word…much more to our liking than sympathy. Having empathy is the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes; to consider their plight while also considering how you might feel in the same circumstance. It’s a bit more engaging. Being empathetic moves us emotionally and compels us to act with compassion, but it is not the ultimate of –pathies. One can remain detached more or less and still feel and respond with empathy.

Which brings me to today’s word of the day, Compathy. It’s little prefix of a word, ‘com’ is a loaded when you add it to -pathy.  For this word’s etymology we turn to the Latin ‘com-‘ or ‘cum’ which means “together with, similar, extremely, completely.”  Compathy contains an intensity that the other two words do not.  Compathy is defined as “feelings, as happiness or grief, shared with another or others.” There is no detachment here, no standing on the sidelines. To have compathy means to feel the intense emotions of another with that other person or persons as if you share the same heart.

I can understand why compathy is more obscure than the other two words. Have you ever heard of it? I know I hadn’t.  And my ignorance allowed me to be quite content, considering myself a caring, feeling, empathetic person…which is a good thing, right? The fact is my ability to care has now been challenged to rise to the next level; to allow myself to enter into the suffering and joy of others whole heartedly and with abandon.

We call a person who acts and feels this way an “empath”, but I believe we have it wrong. Empaths are truly Compaths when you get right down to it. And it’s something to aspire to. Not because I’m a masochist but because I believe having compathy is the one true way to connect with another person in a deep and meaningful way. It’s where love and healing and true joy happen.

Have a great weekend. Peace and love to you and yours.

sympaths say “poor you”
empaths say “poor you, I know…”
but compaths say “we”

~kat – 14 April 2017


Hopeless Grace

775px-Barber_suspense

Suspense by Charles Burton Barber

Beads of sweat dotted her forehead as she crouched, trembling under a makeshift shelter of cardboard panels. Her swollen belly tightened as surging bolts of excruciating pain crushed her frail frame. 

After hours of agony she birthed not one, but two baby girls. “Two too many mouths to feed,” she thought. She swaddled them in rags and placed them in a tattered basket, scratching a note to the good sisters. “Please care for them”, she wrote, “I cannot.” 

Before dawn she stumbled into town leaving them at the abbey door. As she watched from a distant doorway, the sisters of St Gertrude’s Orphanage took the twins in just as she had hoped they would.  

________________________________________________

The sisters named the babies Hope and Grace. Hope was the quieter of the two. She rarely made a sound and seemed to prefer observing life as it passed before her. Grace, true to her name, was a delightful, good natured bundle of joy. She quickly caught the attention of a barren couple who visited the orphanage hoping to find a child to call their own.

The adoption fee was quite high, but it ensured the means of prospective parents and their ability to provide for the children placed in their care. The sisters never mentioned that Grace was a twin for fear that the couple might change their mind. Finally the papers were signed and fees paid. Grace became a daughter that day, while Hope remained behind.

Seven years passed. Grace thrived in every way. Her wealthy parents showered her with love and comfort, seeing to her every need and want.

While at the park one spring day Grace noticed a girl, strikingly familiar, amongst the orphans that came to play every week. She approached the girl.

“Hello,” she smiled, “my name is Grace, what’s your name.”

Hope looked up, her eyes widening. It was like looking into a mirror. “I’m Hope,” she replied, “you look just like me. How can that be?”

The girls became fast friends. Grace begged her nanny to take her to the park on the days when the orphans would be there. She told Hope about her lovely home and family, her dog, Button and her kitten, Scratch. Hope, in turn, told Grace about her life at the orphanage. The sisters were kind and loving in their own way, but they were not a mommy and a daddy; something Hope longed for.

Overcome with compassion for the orphan, Grace had an idea. “you know Hope, you could be me and I could be you. I’m sure no one would be the wiser. Then you could see what it’s like to have a mommy and daddy.”

Hope thought for a moment. “That’s a fine idea Grace! I could do as you say. No one would be able to tell. If you are willing I would love to do it.”

The girls agreed to trade lives for one week. They swapped clothes behind a huge oak tree. Grace joined the other children as they lined up to return to the orphanage. And Hope skipped over to the nanny who was sitting on a park bench nearby.

Their plan worked like a charm. No one ever suspected. After a week’s time, while enjoying breakfast in bed, Hope decided she rather liked being a daughter with parents and a dog and kitten. There is an old wives tale about twins that says there is always a good twin and a bad twin. Hope definitely fit the latter description. What she was about to do to Grace was very bad indeed!

From that day forward she resisted the nanny most vehemently when she offered to take her to the park. There Grace returned week after week, waiting and watching for her doppelgänger to no avail. Eventually she realized she had been deceived, feeling helpless to fix the mess she’d gotten herself into. Surely no one would believe the truth were she to tell it. So she didn’t.

Poor hopeless Grace spent the rest of her youth with the good sisters of St. Gertrude while an imposter lived the life she forfeited for having too kind a heart.

-kat – 13 April 2017

For Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge based on this painting called

.


Cold Pizza

PHOTO PROMPT © DALE ROGERSON

The boom of a trash truck outside startled her. Her head was spinning.

“Where am I?” she gasped, fumbling for her clothes. As she dressed the sound of someone showering hummed from the next room. 

“Why don’t I remember. Was I drugged?” she mumbled.

She grabbed her things and tiptoed past the bathroom; the front door in sight at the end of the hall, when she heard the water stop.

“You’re up! Where are you going so early?” his unfamiliar voice rasped from behind.

“Work. I have to go to work,” she whimpered not turning. The door was padlocked.

-kat – 12 April 2017
(99 Words)

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers challenge based on this photo prompt by © Dale Rogerson