The homeless women,
         we are,
    the mothers,
we are the sisters...

             We need opened eyes.
                 Help to stay from the arms
                   of harms clutches...

                                You are the mothers.
                                  You are the grandmothers.
                                       And we are left to cry for help...

                                       for what you have
                                       that we have not.

Thank God you are safe.
    We have to live on the streets.
         Scared to death is the fact
        and the key word...
You have a locked door;
we do not.
    You have showers;
    we have few.
        You can keep the bugs from your hair.
        We are infected
             with little choice...
We are your wives,
    we are your sisters,
        we are your mothers.
We dodge guns,
    we dodge knives,
        we, sometimes, we dodge rape...

God give us hygiene.
Please God help us stay clean.
And if you have the time, keep us safe.
    We do not want to live
        in crime-filled streets.

God please get us out...

poetry © Storm October 13, 1997
art © Ako Saint Procel October 13, 1997

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