In fasting
I am stripped down to hunger,
to desire, raw need.
What are these cravings that gnaw at the pit of my stomach,
directing my heart and mind and hands,
eating into my dreams,
demanding to be fed?

In fasting
I must face hunger,
look into its greedy eyes,
and deny it,
deny myself.

In fasting
my soul growls at God,
honest in doubt, honest in need,
with no bread or wine in sight,
only an invitation to “Follow Me.”


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