A Confession

As hunger erases, disease devours,
And hopelessness subdues millions more,
Violated, maimed and discarded,
As though these children had no reason to be,
Their deafening cries, I mute
Every day, stoically,
With inexpensive prayer,
As no harsh penalty looms
For the cold neglect of another's child.

Wearing the pretense of helplessness,
I rush, I hoard, and I palpitate,
Moving not for another besides mine,
I give to none, except for something in return,
And those whom I lavishly feed,
Have plenty of their own.

I judge, I argue of right and wrong,
I mistrust and I question,
And I teach my child to eat, and to live,
But not to feel, to rise, or to fly,
Withholding the secret of the utter silence,
And the blackest void,
At the destination of this journey
Of selfish discontent.