Homelessness
I
These are my brothers
By the soup kitchen door.
Most, and many others,
Are just, plain, and poor.
There’s a young, handsome fella
Who seems a bit subdued.
He doesn’t fuss or beller
When he’s waiting on his food.
But someone’s yelling at the door
With rights he’s got to defend.
The people in the line ignore it
As they do their best to blend.
There’s not a lot to talk about.
Who can you find to trust?
We’ve seen so much pity, fear, and doubt,
False kindness or frank disgust.
Even to myself, I’m another unknown
In the sprawl of this southern city.
But, we all of us have our own kind of alone,
And I wonder who’s really to pity!
Yes, we all of us know rejection!
We all have met with a wall!
I just wonder how we can build that connection
That promises hope for us all!
II
I had heard of the new growth in industry.
I thought, “Yes, there I’ll awaken my dreams!”
Knowing there would be no guarantee,
But adventure was bursting its seams!
“I’ll go where the winters are warm,"
My eyes upon housing construction,
Along with an ever-expanding swarm,
Who had made the same deduction.
“You wouldn’t fit here,” snorted the snob.
“We’ll call you,” blew off the bureaucracy.
“We’ll wait a few weeks to fill this job.”
“You need a background,” intones the technocracy.
So I parked myself at a Labor Pool,
Toughing it out at that minimum wage,
Though my employer treats me like some kind of fool,
When he’s only half my age!
Now I’ve got no phone, and no transportation.
It makes the hunt for work, at best, inefficient.
I must laugh when I’m asked about my real vocation:
I’m just trying to be self-sufficient.
Stumbling home at the end of the day,
My clothes are just reeking with dirt.
I’d get out of this place if I knew the way;
If I wasn’t so lonely and hurt!
No comments:
Post a Comment