Mission Dreams
Night time creeps up fog like and
Bare with street lights bending
Shapes into focus.
Zombies march to an unheard
Song that have no words or reason.
A march that must be made.
Rows of rows of darkened caves hold within
Secrets and mysteries of forgotten lives
Whose purpose on this plain was lost
Long ago and with a whisper it died....
An with a whisper mourned.
Flashes of light streak through the
Walk giving pleasure to some and
Pain to others whose leather covered
Bones ached for release from needle
Pricks and crack....and soiled pants.
There is no time, there is no earth for
These citizens of the dark and ghosts
By day who reach out with gnarled hands
To caress a death that may never come
Leaving them hard and brittle.
One for all and all for one, they herd
Together under a starless night
Awaiting the day when perspectives
May change with the dirty light and
Mission dreams.
*I spent homeless and street time in LA and San Diego starting in 2008. This poem reflects my time on skid row near the Mission.
Copyright © Mark Heil | Year Posted 2017
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