By Agnes Abdelwahabe

I am crying all the tears I didn’t cry.

Letting out the tears I try to hide.

I don’t like this feelin’ that’s hangin’ over me.

So I pray to God to set my soul free.

I’m trying to move forward but yet I am trapped.

Trying to hide my feelings but yet I collapsed.

Returnin’ to my shell from the world outside.

And even though you see me you see my pride.

Cuz I won’t let another see me down.

I won’t let another person smile at my frowns.

In order to achieve I must believe.

But first I know it starts with me.

But before me it starts with God.

He the shepherd will guide me with his rod.

And he alone will guide me to the light.

And bring me to my future that is oh so bright.

But in the meantime I’m suffering,

Waiting for His words to let my soul sing.

And even though patience is key,

It feels like I have been waitin’ for an eternity.

This poem originally appeared in the Fall 2013 Issue of The Wall Newspaper

By Ethel D. Mack

Hunger is like a disease eating

away at you and your interior organs,

leaving you with little self-control.

While you’re slowly deteriorating

you start to drift into a stage of

weakness, as the pains of hunger

start to take its toll.

Hunger is not something you

practice or preach.

Hunger is not something we try

to teach.

It falls amongst us one at a time.

It sneaks up on us as though

we’d committed a crime.

But there is always someone trying

to point you to a way of hope, love,

and some tender care.

(Because) knowing, as well as I do,

that hunger is not a joke, because

having this pain is too much for one

to bare.

Not aware of the fact that there

are people, places, and things to help you survive.

Being hungry puts you in a lost

place; the only difference is now you’re

trying to stay alive.

This poem originally appeared in the Fall 2013 Issue of The Wall Newspaper

By Paul Norris         

The highway undulates like a diamondback, making its way across a sandy wash.

Back and forth, up and down, twisting and turning lazily until its belly slithers over the horizon.

The clouds gather and vie for position as a crowd, pushing and shoving each other out of the way for the view.

But as quickly as they come, they see and lose interest and wander on to the next show.

Some darkening and crying at their disappointment.

The winds blow briskly, prodding the dust to flee before it.

Into every nook and cranny it crawls, hiding, like a jackrabbit from the soaring hawk.

Yet stands the lonely Mesa, unmoved…

This poem originally appeared in the Fall 2013 Issue of The Wall Newspaper

By Derrick Branch

On my travels in life

God has been so generous to me.

All my needs are somehow taken care of

almost miraculously.

At times when I need to eat

I may go hungry for a while,

but before I starve my hunger is satisfied.

And when I’m truly financially stressed,

down on my luck,

a good job is right around the corner.

Bet your bottom buck.

When bullets fly and there’s mayhem in the streets,

I walk safe and secure

in virtual peace.

I’m never lonely.

There is always a friend,

and no matter how many times I fall due to my sins,

I manage somehow to get up again.

And most of the time,

in the end I truly win.

And all of this is due

to the grace that the Lord sends.

This poem originally appeared in the Fall 2013 Issue of The Wall Newspaper