Bio Note: I have been writing a poem a day since the start of the pandemic. Although many are not worthy of publishing, it has helped me to establish a routine of daily writing. I enjoy yoga, gardening, and looking for treasures in thrift stores. My poems have appeared in Solitary Plover, Visual Verse, and I will have my first chapbook published by Kelsay Books later this year.
The tomato I hold in my hands is far from perfect. Not all of it ripened evenly. Parts are still green. It has scarring, a black spot. It has split open a bit. If only someone would cup my heart run their fingers over my scars the broken-open, bruised parts soft parts, hard parts see the part not ripe, still child-like the part ripened a bit too far, the blossom rot notice its beat so faint bring it back to a hearty thump-thump, thump-thump.
We watched as the people in Ukraine kneaded their weary souls lifted their spirits, raised their voices into song as they stood against the greed of autocracy in its puffed up guise. With solidarity, singleness of heart it was the ordinary who planted hope for all the world to eat. It’s time now for us to plant the wheat prepare, break the bread, share. It’s time to heal divisions repair the earth mend the broken systems welcome the displaced, forsaken. It’s time for the masses to feast.
©2022 Angela Hoffman
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