It’s turning cool in Wisconsin; the mornings are damp, with the sun showing its face late in the afternoon. When the day grows dark, the moon looks like it is covered with ice, light in the distance where life does not exist. Then, the body finds comfort in the warmth of the day. Today I watched a TV program about homelessness; it’s crucial to remember that homeless people are our brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles, parents, and children.
(Based on internet statistical information)
©Every night, more than 300,000 men, women, and children in the U.S. stay in homeless shelters. An additional 200,000 or so spend each night unsheltered, whether on the street or in other locations, subway trains, vehicles, etc. Families with children represent 30% of the U.S. homeless population.
I do all that I can financially, buying bags of food sent to my hometown’s food bank. I advocate when possible, for the homeless. I am thankful that my children are adults and have decent jobs. I live in a Senior Housing complex with a food box in our lobby. Seniors here sometimes reach into the box, retrieving one or two items. I put things in this box as well. I wrote how I feel about this enormous problem worldwide.
©Casualties of the Time…
The homeless cannot sleep on winter’s cold nights.
They gather around a burning barrel,
men, women, and children, forgotten, shattered,
and despised, in the distance, a hungry baby cries.
Begging for food, being homeless, no jobs to be found,
families no longer sound, the government talks end
up in contradictions, poverty is the prediction.
The spirit freezes, the fruit of labor rots, life
squeezes and struggles to persist, bad luck smothers
heart and soul, and hope ceases.
Shifting winds turn into storms. Will the world
grow wiser or be humbled and beaten into servility?
Trust departed, a cardboard box in the streets is
where the homeless make their beds, hope disappears,
and the future appears dead.
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