A Day of Hope

A Day of Hope

Landlord knocks on the door.

"Packing," mom talks, as though

A place to stay awaits,

Her face negating hate—

She fights to keep dark thoughts at shore,

Trying to flood our hearts with hope.

Though fake beams chase

The pain away,

The wave of shame

Is very raged

To stay at bay.

I haven't fought hard enough, and so

Guilty thoughts knock the strength out my soul.

I blame me, taking way

Too many days to slay

One brave night: may this claim

I've trained for days in vain?

Having raw, salty beef with the landlord,

Bro and mom are starving a cheesy home.

Bro says his brain feels drained.

I pain, ashamed—can’t pay

To make a plate, can't aid

His state in any way.

Though mom goes to call a car to transport

Our stuff, we have not a spot to even store

Ourselves.

My brain's afraid to say,

"She's taken space—a break

From fate's insane climate

Of shame and pain and—"

"You better haul all your stuff outside," spites the landlord.

"If she takes long, y'all are spending the night outdoor."

Unpaid, he's waited days;

His patience waned when eight

Weeks came and faded—they

Won't stay unpaid—no way.

We are hauling our things out to the main door,

And they rock coffee, watching us, laughing as we go.

No place to stay; no saint

To praise; not sane to say

Which lane could chase away the pain...

Hope fades away...