Empathy poems address social issues, injustices, or challenges we face in our community. Empathy is when we understand and share the feelings of someone else.
It’s like putting ourselves in their shoes. It helps people connect on an emotional level. It is a positive and valuable feeling that promotes connection, understanding, and kindness in society.
Empathy poems show us different points of view and help us see the world through someone else’s eyes. Through these poems, we learn that people may feel and experience things differently, and that’s okay.
They encourage us to take action. On this page, we will share some empathy poems. I hope everyone will enjoy these poems.
By Miller Williams
Have compassion for everyone you meet,
even if they don’t want it. What seems conceit,
bad manners, or cynicism is always a sign
of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen.
You do not know what wars are going on
down there where the spirit meets the bone.
Like a princess in a palace
Like a whale within a zoo
Like a beetle in a bottle
Like a room without a view.
Like a rat that isn’t leaving
With the sinking of a ship
Like the thrashings of a swimmer
Who is caught inside a rip.
Shore of Refuge
Large blue mouths
Try swallowing the boat
As it lingers on the edge of its doom.
Its sturdy, humble timbers
Offer a bare, harsh refuge
As it rides precariously on the wave.
I hear the voices at the station
In the pub on Friday nights
Heard them on the bus this morning
Again, at noon, at traffic lights.
There is boy, the whispers tell me
He is begging for a home
He asks for bread, a drink, so thirsty
We answer with a stone.
The Man Waiting
I can tell by the way the palms beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried tent
that a storm is coming to Manus,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can’t bear without an old friend,
I can’t love without my dead sister.
The Peace Of Wild Things
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feed
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free
“Still I Rise”
You might write me down with twisted lies,
In dirt and dust, where darkness lies.
But like dust, I’ll rise, unbowed, unbent,
My spirit unbroken, my heart unbent.
Does my boldness make you frown?
Like oil wells, I won’t back down.
With the certainty of tides and skies,
In grace and strength, I’ll still arise.
Did you hope to see me fall?
Bowed, broken, with no hope at all?
With laughter and gold mines in my eyes,
In my own backyard, my power lies.
You may shoot me with words of hate,
Try to seal my uncertain fate.
But like air, I’ll rise, free and wise,
Unbroken spirit, reaching the skies.
“Song of Resilience”
I know why the caged bird sings, oh me,
With bruised wings and a heart that’s sore,
It beats the bars, longing to be free,
A song of sorrow, not of joy anymore.
Not a carol of delight or glee,
But a prayer that from its core takes flight,
A plea to the heavens, earnest plea,
Yearning for freedom, for the boundless height.
In its song, a soul’s longing rings,
A voice of hope in a cage of despair,
For the caged bird, its spirit clings,
To dreams of skies, wide and fair.
Its melody, a powerful thing,
A testament of strength and grace,
In the darkest hours, it takes wing,
Singing of a brighter, hopeful place.
“What Beckons You?”
Believe in what calls to your heart,
That which gives life a vibrant start,
Pursuit with passion, purpose’s guide,
On this unique journey, we’ll reside.
Desire’s not necessarily God’s trace,
At least not in the customary space,
But your path, your call to the unknown,
The love you yearn for, all on your own.
What you discover, the steps you tread,
Moments of joy, tears that you’ve shed,
The wonder, the beauty, the unknown’s allure,
All unveil paths, new and pure.
What you seek, seeks you as well,
A dance of stories that time will tell,
In the moon’s vague, gentle, guiding light,
Your journey unfolds, shining bright.
No need for despair, my dear heart,
As nightly stars keep their flame,
While evening spreads its silent art,
And the morning greets with no shame.
No need for despair, let tears flow,
Like a river, they may descend,
But the dearest moments we know,
Will in our hearts eternally blend.
For the stars and the moon up high,
Shine down on us with their light,
As they grace the vast, open sky,
Guiding us through the darkest of night.
The best of times, forever entwined,
Around our hearts, they reside,
In the memories, they’re defined,
With love, they’ll never subside.
Two buckets, a balance sought to be,
In that space, I came to be.
Where one’s journey ends, mine begins,
Between the extremes, life’s story spins.
Extremes, they beckon with ease,
The middle ground, where mystery flees.
Midsummer’s song, the path we tread,
Shades of gray, choices ahead.
In the note between notes, secrets hide,
In the pause between pauses, worlds collide.
In the breath between breaths, dreams ignite,
In the silent space, hope takes flight.
In the stillness between night and dawn,
In sacred in-between spaces, life’s spawn.
All that can be imagined, it seems,
Lies within those spaces, in between the dreams.
At times, we crave
new colors and gentle light’s embrace,
To reveal what’s painted
across the starry night’s grace.
Magical moments of not-knowing,
They bridge the gap, a gentle thread,
A midnight’s crescent moon,
In and out of time we flow,
Hope for the morrow, with presence aglow,
A smile, a tender, caring touch,
A star’s silent voice before day’s hush.
God, an invitation, not a command,
No demand, just a twinkling hand,
A holy bard, serendipity’s guide,
On this journey, by our side.
My father’s dreams walk hand in hand,
Years beyond his farewell, they stand.
We strive for a life devoid of strife,
Dreaming to end violence in our life.
In streets where shops their wares display,
A handkerchief, maroon and white, holds sway,
Like my father’s, kissed by the sun’s warm light,
In his pocket, beneath his smile so bright.
He’d share it with anyone he’d meet,
How do we move forward in a world so sweet?
His hopes still whisper in the breeze,
Guiding us through life’s complexities.
Though the nut shops may shutter and close,
My father’s kindness forever flows.
In memory’s embrace, his legacy stays,
Teaching us to navigate life’s winding maze.
By Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful
This is all about kindness, compassion, Humanity, and empathy poems.