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Wrap a Rock, Lift a Spoon
Before the white thread
of dawn pulls through—
I run, to catch
a few gulps of water;
I scramble, to scarf
a few mouthfuls.
I choke, trying to down
two half-empty bottles.
I drink, to stave off thirst
I've yet to feel this Ramadan.
Before the white trucks
of aid pass through—
They run, to catch
a few bottles of water;
They scramble, to scoop
up a few handfuls of flour.
They choke, in tears, asking
if it's all just a nightmare.
They drink, sipping grass,
if they even have that for Iftar.
© Walyullah
of dawn pulls through—
I run, to catch
a few gulps of water;
I scramble, to scarf
a few mouthfuls.
I choke, trying to down
two half-empty bottles.
I drink, to stave off thirst
I've yet to feel this Ramadan.
Before the white trucks
of aid pass through—
They run, to catch
a few bottles of water;
They scramble, to scoop
up a few handfuls of flour.
They choke, in tears, asking
if it's all just a nightmare.
They drink, sipping grass,
if they even have that for Iftar.
© Walyullah
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