And still they wait—
157 or more,
gathered before
the soup kitchen door.
Waiting—
for relief
from the chill,
from the brunt of hunger,
from lost promise.
Waiting—
before the shadow of light
that must define
hope
peters out.
Waiting—
to escape
from the wet,
from the dirt and the dark.
Tonight,
tomorrow,
again,
again
and again.
* * *
“Soaked” photo and “Reprieve“ poem by Mary O’Connor © 2016
The poem is a sad reminder of those who must line up for what so many of us take for granted. Very powerful message.
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So good.
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A simple statement that says it all for hapless creatures and humans alike…
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A powerful message indeed and are we not so blessed we are not standing in that line!
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Very touching!
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