Reach. Her arms are forever out-stretched pointing towards the sky. The rumbling in her stomach orchestrates her frustration that stirs in her mind.
Empty? She asks herself why but no satisfaction can feed the ever growing pains in her body. She did nothing wrong and with that thought she keeps her arms up hoping she will be rewarded today.
Empty? The space between her arms remains and the aching begins but is silenced when rivaled against the orchestra violently pounding away inside her.
Empty? The bowl she now holds and her arms callapse with it against her heart. Rivers fall from her eyes and feed the hungry bowl below.
Her body weakens, and with her tears she nourishes the appetite of the unforgiven vessel cradled in her small arms.
Empty, is her body. She crawls into bed and her lullaby is the cruel serenade that forever plays in her belly below.
Empty, A child should never feel the pains of the most unforgiving kind. Hunger.
Full, is this world of a bounty that can fill a child to grow and flourish instead of wither and crumble. A world so full of green and growth should be filling every empty bowl.
Empty? Another night filled with empty dreams, and an empty stomach, and yet her heart is full of hope that tomorrow will bring something to fill her empty bowl.