Rough Element

This world can be cold and heartless, and I do say that on the point of experience, especially if there is no where to lay one’s head. Have a warm meal to eat. Hear the soothing words of “I care for you.” The world can be mighty strong on those that don’t hear that often or don’t have a place to call home. Its all part of our human makeup, the way we are designed to be part of something, to feel loved, to be loved, are suddenly slapped with reality that we can never be part of or have not reached their, the world’s standard of being accepted, in which I think can kill any soul stronger and more faster.

We notice the homeless on the streets; we may find them on a certain corner; we see their conditions, the way they look, how they take care of themselves. Even without their explanation we can also see their pain, their hurt, their suffering, even on some their guilt. Some are remorseful at best, ‘Why haven’t I done better?” It seems to be etched on their faces: the agony of this life. Long gaunt faces express why they’ve never seem to get out of this misery called the streets. For some the streets has been their home, there backbone, however the streets are not a nice place.

It can be a scary existence. The streets are real. It’s in your face reality like a cold hand that never stops hitting, however no matter how cold the streets become, even for some the ride never ends. It’s in one continuation of hell. One must know what they are doing before they end up on these streets. I wouldn’t wish it for anybody. I’ve written a small poem called The Ghostly Drifter. I hope you enjoy it.

A ghostly drifter walks among the vast land,
Seeking shelter from land to land.
Searching to find a home he could stand,
Searching aimlessly with a knock and a bam.
Only to find there was nothing to suit,
Not even a pair of warm socks to boot.
So instead of framed wood,
And a window to look through,
He’ll possess a body,
And beware, it may be you.