from a famine
without whom
we'd only have the weather
to blame
rarely
is it just the weather
when the sun shone hot hot
dry earth, shriveled stalks of baby corn
nothing for them in this heat
and the children
bloated grumbling faint
nothing for them in this family
while the will of the world
sent money, food, time, energy, prayers
towards the starving
and yet the children stared
nothing reached them
we never meant to abandon them
but they who never knew our names
wilting wasted coughing crying
death was a blessing
while some
not as far away as you might imagine
grew fat.
warlords and drug traffikers
chiefs corrupted and officials bribed
black men white men asian men
the occaisional woman
the suited man writing checks
the professionals who came out in SUVs and trucks
with cell phones and loud speakers
and not enough maize.
Stock brokers who gambled
on the price of wheat
law makers who shrugged
diplomats who wrung their hands
while protestors filled the streets
never again, never again
this massacre, this holocaust this famine
they cried
but the little one
in the desert
watched her families herds dwindle,
legs buckle, crooked, can't stand
collapse.
we who have that rare gift of memory
rarely learn.
There are always those who benefit from famine
the girl now a ghost
who still only sees fatness
when the mirror shines back her bones
that goblin
who delights in evading responsibility
laughs in her head
eat less eat less eat less.
she has no control
except here
and now
she has no control here.
but the goblin, oh the goblin
the wicked creature
he still dances.
Those who benefit from famine:
he who went for decades without touch
needed to not risk his heart.
she who went years without sharing
needed to not risk shedding her shame
we who starve ourselves of truth
need not stand up to take action.
Those who benefit from famine:
that force that always creeps
into the hearts of men who fear
grace.
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