Provisions
In hard times rations appear,
less and less
savory, but it is enough
to be sustained. Gratitude
washes the most meager
meal down a parched throat.
Who would dream
of wanting more?
The riverbed is a sorry sight.
The trickle of dull water
is silent and miserably slow.
Even the reeds stand wilted
and brown in the broken earth.
The endless fields are stripped.
A greedy wind has taken
the last grains and borne them away
to fall on more fertile land.
And yes, the cupboard stands
ajar and emptier than an overturned
sky. On the counter, a small plate,
a crazed teacup, an inch of liquid,
a heel of bread. For this I must sing.
So I do, clear and precise,
with the voice of something
winged or hallowed.
I submit to survive
and consume what is dictated.
But no one, except myself,
will guide my hand,
or part my lips,
or ever own my hunger.
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8 comments:
I love that you took the PT prompt and made it about a LACK of food. Really like your poem.
Love this especially the description of your voice as winged and hallowed. I read this at first as winged and hollowed, but hallowed makes a lot of sense.
Welcome to Poetry Thursday!
And thank you for introducing yourself through such a finely phrased, smartly imaged poem. And those two final stanzas have such power in their simple assertion.
Dale--well done! This is a nuanced poem and can be read with many interpretations.
Nice to see you on Poetry Thursday!
xo,
ljc
Very powerful and wonderful. Thanks!
Wow - this is strong, and concise and beautiful. I love it!
Thank you all for your lovely comments and warm welcome to PT. I look forward to reading your work.
take care~dale
Thank you for reminding me of how fortunate I am to have food in my cupboards, and welcome to PT! Very nice poem :)
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