Hunger Strike

I'm not the best essayist in the world, so I was trying to think of ways I could contribute to this blog outside of the realm of the essay, and I decided to stick to what I do best: write poetry. This is a poem I wrote about a group of hunger strikers I was able to meet during the beginning of the year.

Hunger Strike

When you first see them,
you see they are hunched slightly,
bent like bananas.
Their faces
lean, wrinkled aged beautifully
but their eyes
captured no light,
they didn't shine,
they weren't real.
Just beads,
like those of a toy.
Their eyes didn't scream pain intensely.
they were just sorta there.
And if i wanted to I could peel them off
their beautiful faces,
and roll them like bowling balls.

As I held their eyes in my hand,
I looked at them like crystal balls,
wanted to see how much longer
they could go on.

Their eyes told me
they were done.

Then they spoke.
Some voices quiet,
some voices loud,
all equally powerful.
They trembled with force,
passionately declared
"we're ready for another month!!
All we needed is each other
so bring it on, jack!
Cause we're not goin no where"

I dropped their eyes
as i realized that
the human spirit does not reside
in the eyes.

--------------------------

This time around I will not be participating in a 2 day solidarity fast, this time I will be the one fasting indefinitely. I know that after a few days I will seem weak, but I find solace in knowing that the fast can drain me of everything but my spirit.

Love,
José