Tuesday, January 24, 2017

The Homeless Camp

I am surrounded
by the patched summer tents
of a flapping tent city.
My cooking fire, it blazes
without going out,
orange flames
against the dark.

Burn in my belly,
medieval force
that propels me into the world
I don’t understand;
turn me from apathy.
If there is a way to survive,
I will take it.

I can’t let my will
consume me or others,
so I yield to a deeper power
that calls my name at six a.m.