by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
boil and burn the pot is dry
food so wasted water fry
hungry sunken cheeks see pale
air steamed thick with rice gone stale
stomach angry crying out
through parched throat too weak to shout
hands can't hold the garbage they
pick from heaps where flies can play
hatred festers energy
dies from lack of sympathy
Your blood cools my seething brain
Your sweat bathes my raw-nerved pain
gather up good food in mind
strong remain and You will find
justice and revenge are Yours
letting go the only course
trust in You but not in them
live in purity and then
eyes shut hearts to evil's laugh
I'm protected by Your staff
think of You and breathe Your scent
do not worry where they're sent
