Tonight We Feast








Tonight We Feast bun stories
  146
  •  
  0
  •   7 comments
Share

in
in Destination, permanent vacation. ^^
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
A poem about gratitude and poverty. The title image is called 'Pure Innocence' by Rishit Temkar. Thank you for reading. :) <3

Tonight We Feast

When I first saw the prompt, I thought of bread. And I was stumped. But then I remembered a documentary I had watched some time ago. It followed the delivery of food packages to a disadvantaged and poorer part of the world.

Which led me to think about how much I personally take for granted. This poem is essentially telling the story of that documentary. So that was the inspiration behind this piece, in case someone wanted to know. Thank you. :) <3

Hand-built walls exhale

Hand-built walls exhale and a mother's smile sags with relief.

Hand-built walls exhale and a mother's smile sags with relief. Finally, it is their lucky day.

There's running,

There's running, a metal box ambles down

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators into the core of town.

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators into the core of town. There's hands,

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators into the core of town. There's hands, scabbed and scarred,

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators into the core of town. There's hands, scabbed and scarred, reaching out to celebrate,

There's running, a metal box ambles down rocky roads amidst spectators into the core of town. There's hands, scabbed and scarred, reaching out to celebrate, dancing through starving streets,

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils while a mother chastises,

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils while a mother chastises, her swaddled baby bouncing

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils while a mother chastises, her swaddled baby bouncing and laughing with glee

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils while a mother chastises, her swaddled baby bouncing and laughing with glee as she chases her children down the path,

the smell of fresh bread tingling nostrils while a mother chastises, her swaddled baby bouncing and laughing with glee as she chases her children down the path, young once again.

Imagine,

Imagine, just imagine the sight

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues,

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands and doors propped open

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands and doors propped open by pots, pans, bodies,

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands and doors propped open by pots, pans, bodies, the sudden rush of metal glinting

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands and doors propped open by pots, pans, bodies, the sudden rush of metal glinting off bags of bones

Imagine, just imagine the sight of a roar of tongues, hungry hands and doors propped open by pots, pans, bodies, the sudden rush of metal glinting off bags of bones and plump cheeks.

For tonight they feast.

For tonight they feast. Who knows about tomorrow?

For tonight they feast. Who knows about tomorrow? It floats away,

For tonight they feast. Who knows about tomorrow? It floats away, a balloon of prayer.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (7)
SHOUTOUTS (0)