“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed, those who are homeless snd are not sheltered” — Dwight D. Eisenhower
Photo by Gregory Colbert
Born in dead of winter
under a darkling moon
at the waning of hearts
a bewildered child
conceived in chaos
lacking heritage
in freefall of fear
searching for foothold
to climb from this fate
abandoned
nomad of the streets
longing for clarity
for a sense of identity
hungry for love
to fill an empty soul
hungry for food
to fill an empty
aching belly
sorrow wells deep
yet
hope endures
in an innocent heart
though enwrapped in sadness
the light of dreams
always holds flame
even if but a flicker
see this child
weighted with the burden
of cruel abandonment
heavy of heart
felled by hungers
see this child
this child
this day
dreams of flying
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
