• Tricia D. Wagner

Set the Night Singing #2.36

Updated: Oct 12


The hunger of the belly means

morsels waiting, me to find -

savory greens and honey and milk,

the fruits of trees of every kind.

The hunger, not in belly, rather

blood-deep seeded, raging stormy,

in the heart where violent tides-

indecent, showing terror fiercest:

in the black, no Abba bides.

The starving heart looks high to heaven,

low to Earth, to nature's fame,

to people, full of questions, reasons,

to the past, to this day's game.

This casting to the winds

yields nothing,

and my heart drifts west,

unmoored.

Morality, itself, my guide,

in countries void of god and lord.

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