It was all rather matter of fact when she asked for seconds.
Just a couple of extra fish fingers and she was in heaven.
His brothers and sisters didn’t come, he said. He came alone.
“If I eat here…” he paused and chewed “then there’s more at home.”
There were the quiet kids in corners and bolshy ones holding court,
and under grown skinny and grubby kids, who’d never been spared half a thought.
All of these children, treated like they just don’t matter,
and accustomed to going hungry to bed, their exhausted steps up stairs patter.
I hope they don’t see the supine horror of their neglect,
but they must feel the averted eyes, our weak disrespect.
How can we leave the babes of our neighbours to starve
to walk on past them, as they suffer irreparable harm?
Isn’t it high time that we fed our all as our own,
and isn’t it about time, that this city became a caring home?
Not an abode for some and a prison for others,
let not one more child go to bed hungry, or their sisters, or brothers.
We must feed the generations, to whom we entrust this nation,
starting with food, then with prospects, and then with real education.
Let’s help them to rise, and to help them to stand on their own feet,
and so let’s stop walking by, let’s help them to eat.
Deus ex machina is available to buy here on Amazon Kindle for £0.99, or here in multitude of formats on Smashwords and, in the spirit of this new social literary experience and community collaboration, you can determine how much you would like to pay. A proportion of all profit will be donated to charity