|A Sheet of Cardboard my Blanket a Stoop my Home.
||[Aug. 18th, 2018|04:43 pm]
I am an unseen people, who are reviled for being.|
My existence a product of structures.
You would imprison me for more than the expense to raise me up.
You would punish me for my needs.
You feel that I might exist so that you might suffer less.
The scapegoating does not release your bondage or heal your wounds.
Sleeping with a thin sheet of cardboard above me and a concrete stoop below.
Trying to sleep in this constantly hard place.
My being is perpetually harmed through an unchosen civilizations psychopathy.
How I came to this ponderous position was a folly of causes.
Knowing not how as the very earth shift below my feet and my mind muddles.
Existing knowing that you too may be on a precipice designed to make you lose your footing.
In mind, with a consciousness to this painful reality, but with interrelational care and a great deal of dignity and policy this does not have to be true, except for with the exception of natures vast unexpected force, and even with the shifts within the connected world will leave us more resilient.
If there is a soft place to rest maybe I will find it, and the earth as a bed is comforting while warm, and deadly in frost both beautiful. My ceiling-sky is abundant and profound it teaches me every day about the illusions of lack and limitation.
So I will imagine and carry on for maybe there will be brighter days ahead, and if only pain and misery, I will still have the testimony of the will to survive.