When hunger came I hid beneath its shadow, quaking from its reach. Children’s laughter. I waved to them, a caution, famine’s eagerness, its cruelty and its breadth. They smiled. Too late, it was upon them. I cried, I howled. Hunger said, “I’ve triumphed! I am death’s ally!” Unhappiness fell down next to darkness as I plotted against its teeth, its pale talons. I would wait in its shadow, with arms ready, with my hands whittled into flags. When hunger comes again I’ll be ready, flags pointing to its conceit, fierce love upon it. © 2010 by mark prime Freedom From Hunger
(The Weaver's Song)