The Moral Famine

They stuff their faces with profit pie-charts,
wash it down with liquid assets.
Rolling in dough,
yet never break bread.

The more they devour,
the more they waste away.

Lips cracked from silence,
eyes sunken from refusal to see,
until only a skeleton,
draped in slogans,
remains.

They have become
too emaciated to carry truth,
too brittle to lift a name
as heavy as Mohammed Mustafa Yassin—
four years old,
starved by the siege.

Morality has been rationed.
Measured.
Withheld.
Its calories spent
on press releases and justifications.

And now they sit,
gaunt and grinning,
in conference rooms and consulates,
reciting:
“Unfortunate collateral.”
“Complex realities.”
“Necessary measures.”
“False propaganda.”

Slogans served,
instead of sustenance.

Empty pots?
A trick of the light.
Protruding bones?
A sleight of hand.

Gazens with empty stomachs,
but a cornucopia of desire,
to break the blockade
and let
laughter rise again
like bread in an oven.

***

This poem originally was published on Jesse Hagopian’s Substack page, “Teach Truth & Sing The Blues.” To support his writing, please considering subscribing.