Toward the end of the day,
it doesn’t matter anymore,
The hunger is there,
but the agony is past,
the head slightly foggy,
the throat so dry,
the burning relentless, and powerful,
It all becomes a part of you.
Then we fill our stomachs,
and quench the thirst,
and some measure of sweetness
disappears,
no more constant reminder
is left for us,
of the sufferings our Lord endured,
There is only sleep
until we awake
to another sunrise, another day,
and the fast begins again.
Doctor Grandma 