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Where Brenda Sleeps
[verse]
My crazy sister had roamed homeless for so long.
Once an intellectual, then her brain went wrong.
For hospitals to keep her, she had to be a danger.
A strange logic, but to reality they were a stranger.
[chorus]
Where does Brenda sleep tonight?
On an underpass out of sight?
In a doorway, or a city park?
Seeing visions in the dark?
[verse]
One day, a call came in on my cell.
It was Brenda's voice she had stories to tell.
She said she was at Union Station DC
I said I'd be there as fast as I could be.
[verse]
I called Dad, he said you can't cope
She's too much to handle not much hope
Doctor says put her on a plane back here.
I had to agree but felt an undefined fear.
[verse]
Brenda was waiting - tousled hair, blue eyes.
She gave me a hug; I felt my spirits rise.
She wanted to come to my house, I had to demur.
"Dad wants you flown home; you need a cure."
[verse]
"No way" said Brenda, ready to fight.
So I put her in a hotel just for the night.
I said, "see you next day just wait for me."
Brenda saw a trap and went out to be free.
[verse]
After work I came home, got as far as my door.
Two cops standing there, with photos in store.
Of Brenda stabbed 40 times, chest and face.
By a supposed member of the human race.
[chorus]
Where does Brenda sleep tonight?
On an overpass hiding from sight?
In a doorway, or a city park?
Seeing visions in the dark?
[verse]
You can blame the underworld for the crime
But subsidized attorneys stopped care every time.
The lawyers excuse: she had always been free.
But that was not freedom's meaning to me.
[verse]
Their motto seemed to be "Live free and die."
Freedom without reason is just a good-sounding lie.
We couldn't give her the one chance to get well.
She died with her rights on, after 4 years of hell.
[verse]
Now its true that there can be shades of gray.
But from the spiral there should be a better way
Dad's home not meant as a madwoman's base.
And freedom is not just about physical space.
[end]
So now we know where Brenda sleeps.
Under a stone where a willow weeps.
Rosy ideals need common sense at the core.
No freedom now, she'll roam no more.
Copyright ©
Mark Springer
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