I just wrote this poem expressing the way MKs are sometimes made to feel, especially over the holiday season.
Do Not Pity
by Katrina P. Zemke
Do not pity me
And moan over how far away I am.
I already know.
I’m already aware.
And your sympathy sounds like nothing
But words.
Do not claim to understand
That you know what I’m going through
Because you left your child
At a camp five hundred miles away
For a whole summer.
Do not tell me how you cried
The day you left your child
At college in another state.
My parents left me
And flew away
A thousand
Five thousand
Ten thousand
Miles.
I thank you for your prayers.
I thank you for your concern.
But understand:
You cannot know;
You do not know;
Until you have truly lived
This life.
I don’t cry tears.
I don’t mourn all day.
I came to terms
With the reality of my life
Many years ago;
And I am not heartless
Because of that.
Don’t ask me when I will see
My parents again.
If I asked you that question,
Would you really be able to answer?
Maybe I can answer,
But even if I can’t,
Do not respond,
“Oh, that must be so hard.”
This is my life.
This is all I know.
So next time you see me
And ask about my family:
Do not think I am heartless.
Do not claim to understand.
Do not pity.
