Such Souls As These
Christmas is over; everyone's partying, ushering in a new year,
except for the unfortunate few who have no home.
For them, there are no church bells of celebration;
to ring in the New Year.
They sleep atop steam vents to stay warm.
I can't imagine being them; it's hard to fathom
the nightmares that haunt their meager existence.
Invisible in plain sight,
the cold seeps into their bones and crushes their spirits.
Homeless, they're the dregs of modern cities,
and facing scorn, they preserve their dignity in alcohol,
trying to numb reality.
Hope is a luxury they can't afford.
Winter is hell for the mentally ill living on the streets,
for they've lost everything, even who they are as a person:
demeaning and cruel; what was their crime?
Humanity harbors such souls as these at its fringes.
Yet, when I look into their eyes, I don't see a hopeless cause,
I see the same dreams and fears I see in myself.
And it makes me want to cry!
Why are we indifferent to their hurt and humiliation?
Is our lack of pity because we're immune to their pain,
or is it because, like Cain, we are not our brother's keeper?
Or perhaps, it's a little of both!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
