It was January and she had been staying
with junkies who took her in because she
was “safe” - didn’t do drugs of any kind - ever,
so no sharing their poisonous choices or raiding
them, which meant stealing from them...
Suddenly, without warning, they came to her...
“We want you out - now - get out”
When she went to get her coat the woman said
“I am keeping that - here is one you can have...”
What she was given was a thin cotton jacket...
It was raining freezing rain and was below freezing...
She had never taken anything she didn’t pay for or own,
but a Goodwill donation truck was on her path
Things were strewn all around it - including a green little
suitcase - maybe it held a coat - please, Jesus
She was near the pretty little duplex where she had lived
and then allowed her “boyfriend” to move in -
there were woods near it and she headed there, wanting
to feel a connection to something familiar
She found a place where there was a fallen log
with a hollow behind it...she who had held a job
at two hospitals making a high rate of pay...until
he beat her so badly she could not work and lost her job
now her ‘home’ was a rotting log and brush
She prayed as she opened the suitcase
There were sparkling dresses, cocktail dresses
stiff, unyielding dresses alive with sequins and tulle
that bit onto her swollen fingers
Jackie Kennedy dresses - rich womens’ baubles
but no coat
Freezing rain coated her hair - cooled her fevered cheeks
Her leg was infected where he shot her, yellow pus
running down her leg, gluing her pants to flesh
Pulling the fabric away tears the skin
Half the dresses made a mat in the brushy hole-
sequins sliding
That suitcase - Judas - liar
serves as a tent when put upside down
over the log and some brush
keeps the worst of the rain out of her eyes
It would be logical that she die by morning
but she never seemed to have a bit of luck
So vividly written from your experience. Would make a good theme for a film. Someone survived all of that, somehow, to write the story and become famous as a result.
Sherry this poem is so real and so heart breaking. My tears came and my heart ached as I read it. No one should have to go through such an experience. You have captured it too well in your words.
Reviewed by JoAnne Cromp (Reader)
Reviewed on January 9, 2022
Dearest Sherry, this deeply touched me. I too was homeless before and know how humiliating and sad it was. It was a time of trial but exercising in faith. I learned that earth is not our true home, that were just passing through.With that nomatter if we're are with or without home, Almighty God gives us an eternal home that no one can ever take. I can tell you God allows things for our schooling in growth, strength and above all testimony to give others hope, enlightened power that we can overcome many trials. The times were in is as of Noah and those that are seeking and obedient as His children, not just his creation will be spared. Keep writing poetry because it really helps others. Thank you
Such a sad tale that no doubt repeats itself in many places to many people who find themselves on skid row. My heart goes out to all those who suffer such things. No one deserves this. The poem says it all.
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