Hunger is

Phil Burpee

Hunger is a living thing --
it lopes around the neighbourhood
like a half-wild dog
showing ribs
showing teeth
showing cold contempt
for all the careful trappings
of our careful lives
and our soft-bellied spaces


Anguish is a living thing –
it crawls into our beds at night
beneath the covers of our dreams
becoming this
becoming that
emerging with the morning light
hungover
like some binge undone

Sadness is a living thing –
it comes like flocks
of silent birds
who settle in
a silent tree
and crying
oh, that’s the wind, I think
blowing up from
southern lands
where deserts stretch to evermore
and terrible is such beauty
so wanton
are such tears

Resilience is a living thing –
clear of eye
open of hand
maker of living myths
wanderer in broad lands
climber of green mountains
swimmer of deep rivers
singer of bright songs
maker of great peace
spinner of fine thread
diviner of sweet springs

Bravery is a living thing
like some big animal
muscling around in your chest
like some tiger’s heart
pounding, pounding
like the very drum of creation
no surrender
no contrition
no terms of defeat
only the wailing
of the western wind
carrying all the war cries
of a thousand generations
faces forward
into the storm
laughing as the banshees howl
remembering
a time
when the rains came down
and the great creature’s pelt
shone
like the very rays
of dawn