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The Hunger Sun (The 4th September Song)

Famine.
Famine.
Famine.
Famine.
Famine.
Famine.
Famine.

We forget that we don't know hunger. Occasionally we stop thinking about the sun tucked behind the clouds, death, only a whispering wind cupped in our unbending hands.

Starving children aren’t front page news, their mother before them went unwritten.

We sense the famine folding near us, motionless, an army standing at the ready. It hurts to imagine, so we don’t as we sit for another meal, minds numb to the stars, eyes closed to famine.

O! What a world we’ve made!

© 2010 by mark prime



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