Blessed Month

Thirst between the cracks of withered lips
Hunger hidden into the bulging eyeballs
From dawn to dusk pinches and punches
Reminding of wretched fate
Of the countless lot in vicious poverty
Circling round the calendar
The privileged lot hiccups
At a month of fasting
Though a rainbow feast each day at sight
Tastebuds burning bright

For a dozen and ten calendars
I’m into this fasting sport
But this summer. Aha!
Tossing and turning
At noon so burning
Leading to the edge of yielding
But a call to the Lord
Brings me at ease
Monstrous thirst does no more tease
©jeyforyou

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