Some things might be better said in verse.

Regarding That Which I Struggle To Explain
.
If I tell you they are poor,
I fear you will pity them,
and not see
the beauty and the wisdom
they have to offer.
.
If I only show you what is good and pretty,
I fear you will not realise
just how devastating
and unromantic
poverty truly is.
.
If I mention my struggles and frustrations,
will you think them overwhelming and constant
or me a hero
for simply trying
to love my neighbours?
.
If I say I don't want to leave,
will you fear that it is coming I dislike,
when in truth
my heart aches as deeply for you
as it soon will for them?
.
If I call every person equal and alike,
am I perpetuating injustice
and condoning conformity,
who only wants to promote
respect and mutual learning?
.
If I express disappointment in my country,
while lusting after its ideals,
will you condemn
the criticism
that weeps for all that might be?
.
Sometimes laughter mixes with tears.
Sorrow and joy wander together
the paths of life and of my heart.
Good and bad are petty categories,
lines blurred by reality.
.
So far away, each day you breathe,
and also you must feel at times
tired and excited and annoyed and confident,
loved and frazzled and flamboyant and angry--
or perhaps an inexplicable mix.
.
It's like that for me,
too.