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 please get us out...
poetry © Belinda Springer (aka Storm) October 13, 1997
art © Ako Saint Procel October 13, 1997
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