Compassion
is the warmth
of torn book pages
slowly fed to hungry flames,
by a beggar’s hands,
it is the sound
of the lonely coin
at the bottom of his tin cup.
it grows from the reek
of unwashed clothes
and rotten teeth.
it is seeing clear
the lonely drop
clinging to a syringe
it is the softness
of a pleated fiberboard
carefully spread
on cobblestones.
Compassion
is a drugstore
closed at night,
it has rheumy eyes
and whisper comfort in a broken voice.
it is tearing us apart
with its bitter taste of bile
knowing that we care.
Compassion
is not a weakness, not religion,
it is noticing
without contempt
not blaming
but listening and learning
staying strong and letting go.
Rembrandt
Today we are doing listpoetry at dVerse, hosted by me. Join us and write poems by working from lists.
May 14, 2026
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Compassion begins there, doesn’t it, just noticing, and all the details of the noticing lead to more promising acts that the world is sorely in need of.
Indeed… if we don’t see and notice we cannot act.
So sad, so true.
“Compassion
is not a weakness, not religion,
it is noticing
without contempt”
Bravo
much love
Gorgeously rendered, Bjorn! I especially admire; “Compassion is not a weakness, not religion, it is noticing without contempt.” ❤️❤️