Hunger Does Not Knock
HUNGER DOES NOT KNOCK
Lone tears wrapped themselves around her heart;
blue skies lost their luster---gone dark
like the clothes of those who had to mourned
the blessed children they had borne.
Hunger does not knock: just bellies in---
whirling through empty spaces like free winds
leaching cracks in abandoned barns
rotting in barren fields no longer sown.
She tries to imprison herself in the sleep
that delays the storming awakening pangs;
seeking that dark abysmal deep
to fill the vacuous abdominal lanes.
Hunger does not knock:
just seeps through the cracks of life
like rays through shaded panes.
Each day is an audacious dare;
life grows invisible
to those that say they truly care.
Hunger does not knock:
just creeps right in and steals its share.
Within, life and death resides; but
but suicide is the greatest sin;
only the Master must decide
who, where, when; but then---
Hunger does not knock:
just walks right on in---
blessed be you and me---
starvation is not a sin.
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