Hopelessness—caked in dirt

            and tossed aside,

like the bird

                with a broken wing

 

confined, fallen into disrepair,

                 harshly judged,

invisible; left to sift through trash,

       for a leftover meal;

 

tattered clothes without warmth,

          managing the best he can,

despite the rain,

          for shame holds no currency

 

in poverty, that luxury only owned

                by the visible

who fail to treasure a life blessed,

       and walk by

the flame flickering in the dark

 

while he, cares not to soar above,

rather, dreams of feathers mended,

                       enabling flight,

       or just a little understanding

 

for fresh plumage—

                         free from past burdens.

Across the way

in morning's early glow

we watch        the sign

No donations here,

blazes above the door,

 

         yet they come,

to compassion’s beacon

 

hauling tattered boxes

and black plastic bags,

  yesterday’s castoffs,

dumped at the door

 

others arrive empty handed,

swarming;       like magpies

searching for treasures

or buzzards     ripping apart

a carcass,      rummaging

 

through belongings shed

by others,           like a snake

sheds its skin; support

rails painted red, overflowing

          with broken gifts

and soiled clothing

 

while heat surges,

at selfish thieves scattering,

          with ill-gotten gains

ignoring blinking lights

 

karma abounds tenfold,

      rivers of red ribbons

unfold on tar-lined roads

wide-eyed—we gasp;

         life’s harvest mirror

deeds seeds sown.

White walls mask dawn’s light,

      in pristine hallways

where fragility and resilience dance

and florescent lights

                                          glare overhead

 

sitting outside the doorway

                                                   waiting

nails bitten to the wick—

wedged into hard plastic chairs

 

time extends and recoils

                   a contracting rubber band

 

while inside, our mother hovers

within twilight’s veil,

       poised on the brink of existence

                      where spirits dwell

 

until her laboured breath shudders

to a stop—breaking free,

               shedding life’s burdens

to flee her withered frame

 

our last bond to a parent severed—

cut ribbons

                          fluttering downward

         a soul departs in silence

and our morning            begins.