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Farewell, old friend
    Old Man of the Mountain

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Old Odd Ends

Catch up with Derek's previous
musings in his own personal

Old Odd Ends

The Hunger
By Derek Swinburne
for Katie Alexandra Berger

One life before my pregnant whims
One life, unfettered, free
One whim left gasping, bleeding pain
And given carelessly to thee
For this fragile whim may not breathe its own
Nor were able to feed its grief
But be fed, it must, so it feeds on pain
At the table 'twas set by its need

And the crumbs be sparse at the feet of need
Where I clamored for sustenance there
As I starved the raw hunger with my penchant for greed
Be it all that could lay my pain bare ?
For my naked oblivion cried back to me
"Have you not come to see I wait here ?
And no matter the hunger, no matter the need
You are broken, and starving, and weak"

And through the blinding red tears
And through the pain that fed full
And through the scattered and empty deceit
I knelt down one last time
As I'd knelt so before
But this time, I had not come to eat !

For the hunger was gone, as been filled through the years
And it could not return lest I plea
But my begging had ended as my torn soul was mended
And hope bought, fades; lest given me free
But I cried my petition to the One never hungered
And through blindness then came to believe
And the gifts that were promised seemed that time had forgotten
Though, like hunger, faith will not be seen

For a sound slowly growing to a clap, not quite thunder
But far gentler, yet equally free
Bore crescendo proportion, as I quickly glanced under
As I saw, I'd been lifted from knee !
And her eyes looked past years of the broken and hostile
And saw through me, so that she could see me
And the gift, still not purchased, as her blue gaze unwavered
Much like all gifts, is lain here for free

Now the hunger is fading as I eat of her full
As she gently allows me to feed
And the nurture that issues from the fat of my soul
Will requite her, alone, in her need
And had she oft been a gift to those willing to barter
Per her value, their loss be extreme
Thus I still stand and stare at the crumbs near her table
And like manna, she feeds them to me


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