The Hungry

Sitting curled,
Arms grasping the belly.
A rumble of protest,
Tongue dry as the desert.

Hours of searching,
Desperate and hopeless,
But upon returning,
Not a crust to be found.

My brother a shadow
Of skin and bone
My mother a wisp
Of her forgotten self

My sister, so young
Crying out for more
For food she mourns
In objection she wails

They tell of a place,
Far, far away.
Where food fills the fields,
And the stomach with more

But if that were true,
Surely they would
Have something to spare
For a soul such as mine.