I'm going to a feast at three
Over there, a baby cries
His mother watches helplessly
as over there, her milk dries.
I throw round flour at Hallowe'en,
Over there, the baby dies
and eggs to jollify the scene
while over there, a man sighs.
They pay the farmers set-aside
over here, the wise young guys,
How can this be justified?
Over here, the same old lies.
I make some art of pasta shapes,
over here, with bright pink dyes
while Aid is tied with long, red tapes,
Over there, no lullabies.
Have we even lost our shame?
Over here, averted eyes
Progress - how absurd the claim
when over there, a child dies.
The world produces enough food to feed everyone. Yet scandalously, over fifteen million children die of hunger every year.
Things you can do now to help:
Become aware
Read the information here and here
Visit the BloggerAid - Changing the Face of Famine site and Friends of the WFP site
Support the BloggerAid Cookbook
Write to your elected representatives
Donate if you can
Image: Wikimedia Commons
Thank you.
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