Joint 2nd Prize, Post-primary
Empty Cooking Pot (1845-9)
There it stands on the stove
Empty
Without a purpose
like the withering bodies of the village
too weak to work.
Empty
–
A black, rotting fear
Pulled from the ground,
destroying all hope.
Empty
And those words on everyone’s lips
Disease will take us all
We’re empty
–
March 17th
No celebrations, no laughter, no fireside stories
The magic is gone
The laughter is gone
The hunger remains
Empty
–
A cot stands in the corner
Empty
Another soul, another taken
Unnoticed by all
Jealous are those who remain
We’re empty.
–
Freedom and salvation
Luxuries reserved for those
Who pass through the clouds and sea
To a foreign land
Or to the shining gates
Freedom and salvation
No longer empty.
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