Poem – “He Fled to His Mother” – Poverty – 9/5/2020

Never so much
Kept in the dark,
Holding upon soil, with an animal
Stuffed with paper,
Paper disused,
Misused,
Meant for currency,
Used for comfort.

A bleeding,
Rife,
Opened soul
To the sounds of a distant falling
Of a woman’s voice.
She sends him whispers,
The child with the teddy bear,
The child with a lonely stare.

A spirit,
A phantom
Clung to dirt,
And from dirt, to debris.

A little tear
Comes falling
As he could have sworn
He was no longer thirsty.

A child,
Parched of mouth,
Tormented of stomach,
Dreams of a mother’s world,
A mother’s arms.
A place to flee,
A place to see
The silenced clock.

Drench the rain,
Feed the sustenance,
Mark the stomachs
By the teeth.
Make the world run with waters,
That the hungered do not starve themselves
By the absence of presence,
Though with the presence of the blue.