A child in Africa
watches as his mother
cooks up the food
she has gathered
today.

His belly is taut with
hunger, just like his brothers
and sisters. Mothers and
fathers.

He knows that Momma
will serve her children
first. And then herself and
Poppa.

A teen in America
sneaks up to tables
in the mall, snatching scraps.

Other people are so
satisfied, that they leave
trays of food, aromatic and
tempting.

He knows that at home,
there will be no dinner.
No after school snack.
Nothing.

Two youth, oceans apart,
yet so close. So similar.
Always hungry, never full.
Empty.