What Hunger Looks Like

Hunger is the substitute teacher whose name has yet to be called.
Hunger is the Salvadoran guerilla fighter who used to feed his whole town.
Hunger is the couple who only have the streets to call home.
Hunger is the girl who skips school so her son can have something to eat.
Hunger is the soldier who gained PTSD when he lost an arm.
Hunger is the grandmother, too afraid to ask for help.
Huger is the children, consuming government mass-produced meals.
Hunger is the Mexican immigrant, still trying to find a safe home.
Hunger is the family, whose children do not qualify.
Hunger is the businessman, who does not need a second explanation of the recession.

Writing with Annie, Northwest Coffee, April 2012

It's easy to be in the present moment
With Anne Fitzgerald
I want to listen
I want to be receptive
I want to assure her
That Jesus was right:
You, Annie Fitzgerald, are the light of Gibson Avenue
The light beaming whenever you and Becca Feldmann are together
The light giving comfort at your grandma's memorial service

We were present to each other
That Saturday afternoon in April
We did writing practice
It was your first time in a  long while
You had a brand new notebook untouched
I gave us a topic
"Go for 20 minutes"
And off we went