Soon winter will begin to rear its snowy head
and I will heave a sigh; it’s the season that I dread.
Not because I hate the snow and not because of ice.
We pay tribute to the gods with a homeless sacrifice.
I’ve carried many a sign that named some homeless soul.
Who died for lack of care; and for whom the bell will toll.
They’re put out on the streets and told to sink or swim,
they’ll only get a thought over turkey, we will trim.
As the holidays approach, we’ll volunteer our time,
then off to hearth and home to quickly shed the grime.
I’m told to keep my spirits up and scream a battle cry.
I scream it for the homeless; who from the cold will die.
There are days when like a battery, I am fully energized
And then there are the days when I’ve often agonized,
over how we came to this and where do we go from here.
Pick up the torch and join me; ignore the ones who jeer.
There are those who are imprisoned and will never see their home.
I pick up the torch for you; it’s as heavy as a tome.
Pick up a torch and follow me; this is no time to rest.
The world must know we care and that a heart beats in our chest.
Shelby I. Courtland
© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland