The soft gnawing
At the pit of flesh
But to be hungry--
Starved and deprived
For days upon days
Unable to satisfy basic human need
Or rectify pain...
Emerging in oneself
Ravenous with need,
Emptiness sprouts from inside
Masking any trace of humanity.
A controllable instinct
Rearing its head,
Propelling the journey to survival...
The soft rumbling of stomach pains
Suppressed by the cry of mental strain,
Wondering when and how
The next meal will come.
Wait patiently for the harvest to grow
Sow the seed you hope to reap
All while focus wanes,
Strength fades and the body grows weak.
But trust holds strong and instinct doesn't lie,
When the craving is satiated
The body will be whole
Unbroken and risen like fresh bread
Rising silently
In the heat of life's oven,
Hungering not.
Read up on World Hunger here. |