Seeing God through a Brother
Everyone has a name for hunger in his mother’s tongue.
My Asian friend asked me in a chat what it’s called.
I typed ‘ebi.’ He sent a voice note and distorted
the pronunciation to mean vomit.
It was normal for the belly to reject a meal. Not anymore.
The once filled library in my home town cries of hunger.
I realized my stomach’s mouth is becoming
wide and I give it to a seamstress to stitch it
into the pocket size of a beggar.
Every expression could be art but not a poem.
In a poem, not all expressions are poetic.
It is poetic to say I begged a bird for a grain
and staked my future, not birthright.
What is birthright if the holder’s body no longer holds air?
I understand when people do not speak of empty stomachs
because it was written: man must live not by food alone.
Today, must be fed to see beyond.
It is normal these days to look at a brother
and see a god_who is also a provider.