When the people are hungry
my mother says — there will be —
a long list of places, blood, turmoil
and change — hope marching
on an empty stomach and leaving
behind my shadow,
my footsteps, my comprehension.
Sun is stubborn on the staircase,
the argument steeps,
it hasn't rained for five weeks,
my only defense is the silence
I hear from the past
and the future is just as mute.