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Hunger ––
I can't hear the word
without my mind swinging to Gaza.
Though “hunger” is too tame––
its consonants, too close, too soft.
“Famine”–– word of long vowels, an open mouth.
Saying “starvation” requires a clench of the teeth.
I stare out the window at a safe bowl of trees and grass,
peas hanging from a vine, fresh water beading
along the fence line. Carrots burrowed under soft dirt.
It only feels like abundance if I can share it.
So much I can't do.
My stomach, a pit not of
hunger but of grief.
White flowers open under gray sky.
No threat of anything falling but rain.
~
Palestinians line up to receive meals at Jabaliya refugee camp in the Gaza. The head of the United Nations World Food Program says that Gaza is in “full-blown famine.” (AP Photo/Mahmoud Essa, File)~~~~~