My Work- Shelter

I was inspired to write this poem after going on various mission trips and working closely with the homeless in cities like New York and Chicago.

Shelter

Each city carries a nameless race, a

species contrived from the

dust and the dark,

born from the alleys

from park benches with cold metal

from the lack- the negative space.

They float

angels with dirty faces

pelted with disgust and weighted with

inadequacy.

We push them under shaky roofs

dismissing them, and pat our own

backs

with honest hands.

We pay no more mind

to the mind

of the runaway teen or the widowed

mother of three.

But the pulse of the city will always

pound in time

and in rhyme

with the hearts of these who are

forgotten.

And if you ever wish to see the soul

of a city,

instead of its manicured hands

or speckless face,

look into the eyes of these who are

abandoned-

and the city

will look back;

silent, and suffering, but strong.