Being Homeless, a State of Mind

Being Homeless, A State of Mind You don’t have to be poor to be homeless. In a day you can be in a great mess. Let pipes burst in your house, from harsh cold that’s without, and you’ll find yourself living from bags. To a Hilton hotel I was bound, with whatever dry clothes could be found. Feeling like a turtle that was topless, I knew that now I was homeless, and crying the blues all around. Until I heard a commotion, thirty people or more, closing hotel doors. Children crying, people sighing, a parade of boots passing. I asked what was the matter? What made all the clatter? I was told they had an apartment fire, and these people were burnt out. The Red Cross would pay for 48 hours, and then they had to check out. Where would they go from there? For what cause did I despair? My insurance would pay, for as long as my stay, which progressed to be four months. In that hotel room, I ceased my gloom, and thanked God for a place to lay. We grow quite attached to our homes. From them we hate to roam. When they’re torn from us quick, it can make us sick, if we don’t look for blessings in the storm. 10/23/16 Being Homeless - Poetry Contest Sponsored by The Seeker