The Snow at Home

The snow fell

upon the ground

 

My eyes could see

every single flake

And as far as I could tell

I was home

 

But I wasn’t

I was in the streets

of a cold and filthy city

This was not home

 

At home snow didn’t mix with the muck

that covered everything concrete

At home the snow stayed pure

brightened by a half-shrouded sun

but here the sun can’t even shine a single ray

 

Maybe that’s why were in such disarray

Reviews

[AK]

Just a few days ago I drove by an old man with all his possessions strapped onto a bicycle. He had stopped on the sidewalk next to a busy street in mid-town. He was resting because the street ran uphill there. He leaned low over the handlebars holding the weight of his life against the gravity of the hill. Even as he rested he was working to hold his place.
He wore a heavy coat and a particular style of insulated boot known locally as "bunny boots". It was a warm Autumn day in Anchorage. The Alaskan winter is only weeks away.

I was taking my wife to the hospital for some tests and the traffic was heavy... I couldn't stop. But as I looked at the man I realized that regardless of where he was going, whatever destination drew him up that steep hill, he would likely be sleeping on the ground that night, again.

It's hard to believe that we still have people in America who do not have a warm and safe home.