the capability to share is the essence of being human

We feast on home baked banana bread,

thick chunks dressed in cream and honey,

mushrooms wok’ed and vine tomatoes roasted whole,

juice and virgin olive oil a fragrant mix,

sausages, meat and vegan to cater for each taste

attending this Thank God Its Sunday brunch.  


The church hall doors open;

a beggar, two dogs leashed to his ankle,

stands uncertain,

eyes heavy with hunger.

My back bends, head hangs

under the weight of his need,

and I look upon the abundance

gathered at each serving table,

ask myself who among us would not share

of this harvest,

not to lighten our burden,

provide a brief respite to our unsated souls,

but to honour that part of us,

too long and often fallow now,

which makes us human,

moves us into our inheritance to become

the guardians descended from Eden’s angels.

© Bhi 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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To feel guilt or not to feel guilt. That is the question. I doubt there is an honest answer to it.
Interesting poem, still trying to read it.


I guess you are right. I’ve experienced the generosity of people with much less than me in India. But in the world of the rich there is sometimes (definitely not always) a reason behind their generosity.

Call me cynical. 🙂

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