The Arithmetic of Poverty

When will justice come? When will the poor and hungry be allowed to take their rightful place at the table so bountifully spread? When will hunger fade to a distant memory?

Justice is possible. But as the poster states which I discussed in my last post, justice will only come when we who are not suffering can feel with those that are suffering.

Somehow we have to feel with those who are hungry. We need to let go our cool civility and feel the pain, the fear, the anger, and the desperation that fills the lives of most the world. We have to come out from behind our stained glass, gilded sanctuaries and annual reports to take the hungry into our arms, and more importantly, into our hearts.

The poem “Arithmetic of Poverty,” comes to mind.

Decide mother,
who goes without.
Is it Rama, the strongest
or Baca, the weakest’
who may not need it much longer
or perhaps Sita?
Who may be expendable.

Decide mother,
kill a part
of yourself
as you resolve the dilemma.

Decide, mother
and hate.