She struggles across a crowded street,
A life of survival with little to eat,
She stoops from the weight of the plastic bags,
Hung from her shoulders and tied with rags.
Her life's belongings she carries around,
Most, in the bags,
either begged or found.
Invisible woman for each traveled mile,
Lacking description, result of denial.
Moment to moment, day to day,
Looking for shelter, a safe place to stay,
A cardboard house, if lucky, she finds,
Dare we look in, lest we remind,
This tragedy can happen in one of life's flashes,
Dreams born of fire, fallen to ashes.
- Copyright ©2000 Edward & Virginia Carlson -
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