Do Not Pity

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.