Distant Shores
written by: B. Frederick Foley
The world is full of nourishment, all that we could ever need
Across the river they go about emaciated, lamenting their lot
Arms stiff and straight out ahead, unable to bend, never reaching their mouths
Toiling day and night, they are only able to flip small crumbs to their faces Ravenous and miserable
On this side we are full, eating all we need
Though our arms are firm and straight out ahead, they can’t bend to reach our mouths
Our souls sing with the universe
Through Fog they cannot see to our shores
They cannot see how we feed each other
Latest posts by B. Frederick Foley (see all)
- Distant Shores - February 18, 2021