a white plastic bag rises up
to test a western wind
Amy please come home
I promise you
it'll be so much better
than it has been
a six-foot high cross rises up
to touch the clouded sky
four long years have
crept on
Jordon Williams
do you rest in peace
as the whirring trains pass by
here is a reminder
of you
fallen
by the tracks
its wooden arms reaching towards
both the east and the to the west
not much left
to remember those by
but words by the roadside
meager poems
with the traffic trampling on the book of life
oh no where do the lost go
and how quickly are they forgotten
I notice these small signs
penned and left behind
and think on
the world's lost and misbegotten
I see the debris
the orange needle tops
I see what's left of all they have
strewn across their roadside flops
so many of my neighbors now avow
NO, not in my back yard
you who have so much
but lack all understanding
of the need for a real human touch
what happened to Amy
what happened to Jordon
has happened here
in their backyard
in their downtown
on their mean streets
people die
those who may never have had a home
not when they were children
even then they were alone
my brother
could so easily have
been one of them
it could have also been me
"Hey, you who've got all the answers...
why not spew some more of your wisdom
about this pervasive misery...
you who know all that you think you know...
if the Homeless can't go home then
where are the Homeless people supposed to go...
if they can't ever
go home?"
********
legal copyright for this poem 4:41pm PST
and also for this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
Note: Just because you don't see it...
doesn't mean there isn't suffering.
Try a random act of kindness. Better yet
do it anonymously. You would be surprised
what good you can do for yourself and
for a random stranger.
These are REAL people memorialized by the train tracks
and the roadside. I felt they deserved to be
remembered.
