The Loss of family

She just looked,

no sight in her eyes.

as they turn into her turmoil.

He just sighed,

no hope in his soul,

as he lives on the streets.

Their young lives stolen by adults too bound up with pleasure

that they abandon the child of their loins, some sold, and

the little hands and feet beat a rhythm in their rags of the

sounds that are wound around their lives of calls and cries,

screams and tears stream down their dirty faces making 

those tracks that blind adults ignore, whoring the little ones

piteously, hideously  lasciviously taken their spirit to spit

it out and still the films are churned our teaching them

to spurn the family life that returns to a child their hope,

dignity and conformity to a way of life of security.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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