Holy Bread



The hunger was the woman with a friendly, foreign name-tag.

That busy Saturday.


A miracle healer, as pale as milk, passed through the city –

a reminder that we all had our role to play in the war.


For a moment, his voice stopped the curious shoppingbagscrowd-

echo between tall cement buildings.


A sudden rain followed, baptised my sleeping bag,

in the queue at the Lower Street Food Bank.


The history sliced a nearby road in tiny squares of holy bread.



Maria Stadnicka
Montage: Claire Palmer


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2 Responses to Holy Bread

    1. Thank you, Claire Palmer, for creating such a potent montage. Great talent and subtlety!

      Comment by Maria Stadnicka on 1 August, 2017 at 5:22 pm
    2. Thank you Maria, glad you feel it complimented your wonderful poem.

      Comment by Claire on 2 August, 2017 at 7:22 pm

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