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Poetry
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| Ethiopia | |
| By timon | ||||||
| 02 March 2006 | ||||||
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this was written several years ago, but can be equally applied to any famine-ridden nation today. it was written in response to an exercise about the five senses. That rumbling sound Like thunder But not thunder We don’t have thunder here any more Or rain It stopped raining a long time ago Just before the crops stopped growing The noise of wheels Gets louder We can hear it We wait patiently Now we can see it A tiny dot on the horizon It gets closer Slowly slowly Carrying our food The lorry carrying our food of life Creeps over the hill like a beetle We can see it We wait patiently Now we can smell it That smell which makes our parched mouths water Tells us these long hungry days are over At least for an hour Or two That smell Mingled with sweat and salt tears And urine The lorry is here at last We can smell it We wait patiently Now we can touch it So small so soft Yet it will fill our bellies For a while We fill our fists with it Let it run through our fingers It tickles Feels cold and sticky We bury our faces in our bowls Until it fills our eyes Our nostrils We can touch it We wait no longer Now we can taste it We cram it into our mouths By the fistful We choke Gag on it Swallow great handfuls of it It’s soft and chewy Tastes of Nothing really Creamy Slightly salty Some is left in our teeth We scrabble on the floor for any we dropped Until it’s all gone Our mouths are empty We can taste the rice no longer We wait patiently
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