I should have felt your hunger
in my belly, your thirst in my throat,
your weariness in my limbs
all the more for my fullness.
Your hurt should have
knocked at my strong breastbone
like a scream, gaping
in the face of my wholeness,
and yet I stand here, breathing evenly.
What anesthetic have I greedily
gulped down, what painkiller have I
hoarded, that I am numb to you?
What will it take for my heart
to rage at your despair,
for my eyes to weep with yours,
for my feet to rise,
and carry me to you?
I will sit beside you
among the ashes.
I will fill my pockets with bandages,
my bags with bread, my fingers
with all the love
that they can hold.