A Closed Fist

by Natasha Moore

I am hungry,
But you feel no need to feed me.
I ask you, ‘why?’
You quite simply give no reason.
You would much faster feed a dying dog in the street
Than acknowledge a fellow human in need.
Or am I not human?
Am I not human enough for you?
Or are you not human?
Are you not human enough for me?
See I thought hu-man-it-ty
Was all about compassion,
That it was all about togetherness,
But perhaps these rose-tinted glasses need to be removed for once.

No, I don’t pay your bills or buy you food.
I don’t provide your live-li-hood.
But perhaps one day I will.
Perhaps not you, but the person after the next will spare my life,
Grant me a piece of bread and with that a second chance at life.
And perhaps with that I’ll get the chance to be that doctor,
The one who saves the life of your wife and unborn child
So you won’t have to foster
The pain of suffering without something or someone you dearly need.
I will be the one to lift you off your knees
All because someone else gave me something to eat.