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Lia Hart Poem
To you who hides your face,
Sitting on cardboard
Asking for change, with your cardboard sign
Is it change you want? Or coins?
I am frustrated by your lack of motion-
Sometimes there is the puppy eye,
The sleeping angel,
The cardboard cut out, tent
Sometimes there's rocking,
I've also heard bothered screams.
What is the condition of your heart?
Where are all your dreams?
Do you have a mental or intellectual condition?
Did someone let you go? I am here to listen, don't you know, don't you know.
The organization giving out blankets- stopped- it was covid, and they did not know you do not wear socks, and it is forecast to snow.
Don't lite that pipe! Stop using needles!
With all the things you do, it's hard not feeling sorry for you.
But 'sorry' is certainly not the best action, in this situation-
Some people speak kindness and hope and civil unsatisfaction.
'Cause the way things are,
Is deserving of reaction.
Those drugs are dirty,
And I seek revenge,
for two of my neighbours,
And one of my friends.
Copyright © Lia Hart | Year Posted 2020
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Lia Hart Poem
What can we do,
A distant few
Who stand for peace, not war.?
How do I stop fighting, violence, suffering and pain?
Emphasize love, connection, and cross-cultural affection.
Look down from above,
What will you see?
Our hearts are connected
We're all being affected
On this small planet we inhabit together as one.
I denounce destruction
More- am a fan of construction
Creativity, not morbidity
A higher quality of life for all.
Cross national projects, volunteering overseas and cross-cultural community celebrations please!
How can we possibly shape each other's nations?
Meditate on peace,
Pulling up our sleeves to expose the elbow grease, plant trees, garden, play music, bowl- fill our time mindfully, fill our soul-
What can we do
A distant few
Who are revved up to dream, create and help?
"A lot" I say
Self-reflection says we've got a heart connection, a beautiful bisection, that need not correction.
Copyright © Lia Hart | Year Posted 2022
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Lia Hart Poem
In the Grasp of a Group Home April 16, 2021
A young Cree man, seventeen years of age passes away in a group home.
Shocking and disturbing, undignified and unnerving.
Communication lines not open- No faith in them, no hope ‘n
Chills down my spine, a young indigenous adult deceased, why couldn’t he have been voluntarily released?
Sometimes life is a rocky road,
Sometimes we meet a few frogs, other times a big ugly toad.
Sometimes we bare the load,
Sometimes we relate less with “society” and more with Skid Road.
People can strip your dignity,
Their hearts gone cold,
Their disposition a malignancy,
Their infraction a stranglehold.
My last request to you,
Is that you follow through-
With your hopes and with your dreams,
Such as helping others, or making diverse teams.
And this young man,
Lost to the system
Should have never been lost at all.
His heart and belly should have been made full,
He should have been made proud, he should have stood tall.
In memory of Traveon
Copyright © Lia Hart | Year Posted 2021
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