NOTHING

Standing in line, I think nothing of it—
deciding what to devour for lunch.
A decision finally reveals itself to me.
Like a stargazer, I stare at the menu
against the wall.
How lucky I am when others are not.
Their shadows speak making it difficult for me to eat…
these murmuring forces cry in my head.
I answer back, everyday.
Collapsing quietly, sadly…
it is politics why you starve.
It is the big men with a circle of violence
around them splattering the people,  murder on
the world’s hands.
Picking up the food with my hands, I feel
its texture, a holiness as I put it into my mouth.
As it dissolves into my body nourishing me, I am
exposed for my fears.
The only dreams I have today are for no war…
where people can eat… 
I must confess to you, this, so that
you will join me on this road and like a magician,
produce bread. 

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© Copyright, 2016, Gloria Mindock.
All Rights Reserved.