Receipt for a Forgotten Country
An invoice no one wealthy will ever have to pay
They said the cost of living went up
like it was a polite elevator
and not a trapdoor.
Like it was numbers.
Charts.
Percentages.
Not ribs counting themselves
from the inside.
Somewhere in this country
a child learns Mathematics
by dividing dinner
into smaller tomorrows.
Somewhere
a parent drinks water slowly
so their stomach will believe
it has been fed.
They announce inflation
like weather,
expected, seasonal, harmless.
But there is nothing gentle
about cupboards that echo.
Nothing seasonal
about hunger that stays.
Listen.
Poverty is not silent.
It is a refrigerator humming
with nothing inside.
A landlord’s voicemail
saved but unanswered.
A winter coat
that almost closes.
They say millions are struggling
as if millions were fog
and not faces.
Faces memorizing prices
instead of dreams.
Faces learning which bill
gets mercy
and which one gets teeth.
This country builds skylines
tall enough to touch clouds,
glass towers
shining like promises,
but not tall enough
to see us.
Because inequality
isn’t a gap.
It’s a distance so wide
our voices arrive
already mistaken
for wind.
About the Creator
Miss. Anonymous🌻
You don’t know me,
but you might know these feelings.
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The Cave Part 6
If you have ever heard a tale about yourself that you cannot remember and doubtless think is made up, you will know how I felt when Tharkin related all that the eagle had seen of me before my memories were scattered. Of far distances and traveling companions that I did not recall, camping out under the stars and making our way to the mountains with deliberate purpose. The great bird had lost contact with my party once we entered the forests, and the seven other members were not seen again by him or his brethren since.
By Jamye Sharpa day ago in Chapters
Comments (1)
Beautifully written, and so brutally true.