Day 62

Unless you believe in the eye of the needle

this kind of poverty will never be about material

it won't be about ragged clothing

or mud huts with broken walls

or river blindness

or murram roads

or bad-humoured fields that hoard curses

& promises that there won't be a harvest

this year or next year or ever

this isn't the poverty of sleep

or for that matter dreams

this is my deep loss

my poverty

he will never touch my hand again

he will never touch my hand