Hunger

It must be time for lunch now. Woodman New York 1979

Mom told us to hide
anywhere we could
because each week she knew
that he would do it.

We hid behind the couch
we hid behind a chair
hid behind anything
so when he got fed up of banging
and stared through the letterbox
he wouldn’t see us there.

We thought it such a game.

She always told us to be silent
not to say a word
because if the rent man heard us
he’d get even angrier and
shout threats
of police and of eviction

So she whispered to us
over and over
not to say a thing

but

our stomachs still insisted
on doing all the talking.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo        *All rights reserved

*True story and, frequently all we had to eat was bread and gravy but, we can be victims all of our lives or, we can determine to lift ourselves up from it. Education is the key. Hunger is not just in other countries, it’s in yours, mine, everywhere.

Shared with Magpie Tales #137 It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

Defiance

Coloured cloth flaps with a tenderness of breeze
and sweet smell of incense is carried in the air.
Chants and prayers continue uninterrupted
but fear grips a few peasants gathered
Sends them into frenzied scurries of flight.

With neutral ambivalence
and still evenly breathing
the holy man approaches the dazed one
hands him a china bowl containing water
which the soldier turns upside down
empties to the ground
whilst still pointing his rifle at him.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #76
Poets United Pantry #117