Poem by Wayne Lee

First, You Feed Them
            —after Jane Hirschfield

You live in the desert, on a dusty road,
far from the farthest place.
You live on shifting sand, on borrowed time,
the narrow edge of breath.
And every day they come, the foot-sore,
the destitute. You open your door and look
in their eyes. They say nothing.
They ask nothing. They have nothing.
You know nothing of them but that each
has a story, a dream half-smothered
in their dusty past, a need that drives them on.
You do not ask. First, you feed them.
First you offer a glass of cold water, a place
for them to wash up and lie down, a room
where they can feel safe.
Only then, in the light of the new day,
do you say, Tell me about your people.
Only then can their stories be heard
above those of your own. Only then do you see
that those visitors are you.

THEME: Historical Hunger

---

Writer, editor and teacher Wayne Lee (wayneleepoet.com) lives in Santa Fe, NM. Lee’s poems have appeared in Tupelo Press, Slipstream, The New Guard, Writer’s Digest and other journals and anthologies. He was awarded the 2012 Fischer Prize and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and four Best of the Net Awards. His collection Dining on Salt: Four Seasons of Septets was published by Cornerstone Press in April 2025, and his collection, The Beautiful Foolishness, is forthcoming from Casa Urraca Press in March 2026.

---