Yesterday I wrote about a writing retreat last weekend, and while I was there I wrote something that I was looking forward to sharing with you on my blog. The way our writing leader organized the free-writes is, everyone had to write a word or phrase on a small piece of paper, and on the other side of the paper you had to write a number from 5 to 12. Then for each timed writing, a slip of paper was drawn from the bowl and read aloud, and that was the topic. The number on the back of the paper was the number of minutes we would write for. Some of the topics drawn were: On either side of the river lies -, Promise me this, Her name was . . . I wrote this little piece in response to the topic Hunger.
Hunger is that feeling in your stomach that tells you it’s time to eat.
Hunger is the look in the eyes that tries to grab you.
Hunger is a name for need.
Hunger is a shrunken-bellied child, family cast out by hostile neighbors, somber-eyed and solemn.
Hunger is desire.
Hunger is the firmness of saying No.
Hunger is the last day of the week, the first day of winter, a storm’s biting cold, the prayer of a monk on the last day of life.
Hunger asks us to kill.
Hunger asks us to leap.
Hunger asks us to be human.
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