The privilege of guilt

I feel guilt I feel guilt when laughing I feel guilt when eating food I feel guilt sitting in bed at night I don't know if you'd call it guilt, really Knowing that others have nothing While I complain that my food is 'too dry' Knowing that mother's are holding their dying children clutched to their hearts Begging for their child to not be a Martyr I can put my phone away I can pretend for a while But the mother cannot close her eyes without pain that it may be the last time they see their child alive I feel guilt and anger and shame bathing in my privilege that I get to feel guilty instead of feeling the way a father feels when his child is taken from him in a genocide that should never have started