The Street

A robinwillanoma blew a cool wind through my soul,

As a billichrysanthemum bloomed sweetly in the haze,

And as a whoopigoldfinch fluttered past my glossy eyes,

The world suddenly focused on a horrifying gaze.



The woman looked upon me, on my boxes and my clothes,

And she seemed upset with odors as she turned away her face,

Then seemingly, she shuddered as she sloped to sit beside,

I heard her say ,"I'm frightened but I have no other place."



I turned to greet her sorrow as I offerred her a hug

She held me oh so tightly as her fear began to drain.

I said, "You cannot always be afraid, you need to rest"

And on that stretch of sidewalk, the sky opened up to rain.



Carefully I lifted her until she finally stood.

I led her to the shelter where the others could be found

"A newcomer", the word passed round, and others came to see

And there we were, the street people, just sitting on the ground.



My children are in foster care, a place I'm glad exists,

Though how I miss each one of them, this just is not a life

And rummaging through garbage cans is not a trait to learn,

Nor is the fear of being killed by some street leaders knife.



"Street people are victimless, they have themselves to blame"

Each time I hear this rubbish, my own voice is quickly spread.

"My good people, is it you who think I am a fool?

Please give me work and I will prove I strive to get ahead."



Judge me not for clothing for I'm surely not in vogue

And worry not about me for I know how to endure

My only wish is for the others out here on the streets

Never succumb to the lie that this is life's measure.



©1991 David Brager

This poem is about: 
Our world

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