Needing a Home
My soles grate from cuts on bare feet
eyes growing hazy, rattling a waif’s hum;
and I freeze, quiver as night enfolds
like pointed ice tearing a heart in scraps .
A ruptured cry mirrors my dusky face,
while weary thoughts keep the stars awake
praying for grace to tide the lonely seas,
when out there, street children drift on mud
to beg, plead for a morsel of tomorrow.
Can’t I be a kid just running along the grass
in another time, another place tucked in a home,
where life is more than grief, where laughter glows...
a better childhood scene that’s not a plague?
But dreams are gauze-thin, needing hope’s reprieve .
10/27/2016
For The Seeker's Being Homeless Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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