ROBERT A KELLEHER <lnr0...@yahoo.com>

Survival.

Who will survive this night
and see tomorrows light?

Will it be you or I
who lives or dies?

As winters bitter blast penetrates our numbing shivering souls,
vainly we hide, while her biting unfolds.

Fearing her grim reap
afraid to sleep.

Our homeless souls don’t need her grasp
I pray this night, not be my last.

Tired of living this way.
Not knowing day to day

Where my next meal’s from.
Tired being on the run.

No she will not take I.
Not ready to give up. Not ready to die.

I’d give anything for a cup of something warm
Some food in my stomach, is that so wrong?

I know what’s on your mind. Why am I here.

No I’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol
None of these things at all.

I fell on hard times, years ago.
I tried getting on my feet
While living on the street
And you know
No one wants to help, no one cares.
It’s not right. It’s not fair.

We don’t want hand outs. Just a chance,
A helping hand.

Some of us need more. Some of us need less.
It doesn’t take much to give us happiness.

One thing you will find
Surviving alters our mind.

It will take time
for us to re-find

our way back home into society.
For us our little corner of the world is our home.
We are a family.

Each with a story to tell
Scary as hell.

I must go now. The cold, she’s blowing hard and fast
I need to out run her grasp.

Thank you for hearing my plight.
By the grace of God, I’ll be here tomorrow night.

There’s one two blocks from here, over on Fourth and Bloom
You’re much too generous. Thank you for the meal and room.

Yes I trust you implicitly.
I appreciate you driving me.

Thank you, my friend.
Will I see you again?

Yes, my son, you will.