Mommy Why Do We Eat Out of Trash Cans by Judy Joy Jones
by Judy Joy Jones — Read all 298 poems by Judy Joy Jones
"Homeless Mother and Child"
Drawing by Kathe Kollwitz
Wednesday, June 19, 2024
"Mommy Why Do We Eat
Out of Trash Cans?"
by Judy Joy Jones
mommy why do we
eat out of trash cans
because we are starving
and need food honey
but mommy
the food tastes bad
and bugs are crawling
on it
i know sweetie
mommy is trying
to find a job
so we can buy
our food in stores
mommy my arm
is bleeding
i scratched it
trying to get
the bread
out of the
trash can
oh honey
mommys so sorry
i love you with
all my heart
let me wrap
this rag around
your arm sweetheart
dont cry mommie
here you can have
my piece of bread
im not hungry anymore
her mother spread
a dirty blanket
on the concrete street
for she and her
tiny daughter
to sleep on that nite
dear god
please protect my child
as we sleep on
this concrete street
i love her
so much
an if anyone bad
tries to hurt us
in the dark nite
i beg you
let them take me
and please
let she and i
find clean food
and a shelter
that will keep
us warm
its starting to snow
and so very cold
mommy oneday
im going to get you
a big bed and a doggie
i promise i am mommy
i know you are honey
i luv you precious child
with all my heart
come close to me
let me rock
you in my arms
good nite mommy
dont be afraid
gods beautiful angels
are all around us
i can see them
good nite sweetheart
yes we are
surrounded by
golden angel wings
protecting us
from all harm
amen
c jj 2024
Kathe Kollwitz Art
Womens Art Museum
at Link Below
Kathe Kollwitz Art Womens Art Museum
I once knew the director of the Star of Hope Mission for Women here in Houston. He was a quadriplegic, more paralyzed than I, but had a beautiful lawyer wife and two beautiful young children. He was able to get the wealthy board members and donations so that he could expand to a new facility. But, in spite of doubling their capacity, their waiting list was still over 20 women long and growing. I mostly have seen men in the streets, but there are women there, too, with children. It's sad that it has to happen, and your poem comes very close to what it must be really like.
Ron