windows

outside my window, they're sequestered among churches, within, without wrought iron fences, barbed wire hazards, locks, chains, concrete, blocks, mind and name, game and drugs, police patrols, invisible barriers, pet fences          free to roam, until maimed or shocked          no signs, just rules

church grounds open at 6am, close at 5pm          stay on west side of street          don't rest on stone wall
no soliciting

enablers bring clothes and baggage to sidewalks already burdened with black plastic sacks bursting and weighted with clothes and misery
but no dryers, dressers, drawers, roof, rent, phone, phone cards, food cards, toilets, showers, medicines, medical cards, place to call home

where are their toilets, mirrors, privacy          behind art statues, storefront windows, brick walls?

we say we care          bringing food, clothes, dividers          enabling "them" to remain on corners, camp on sidewalks, sleep in parks, parking lots, under bridges, tree canopies, down subway tunnels, within abandoned buildings, beneath doorways, train under/overpasses, under stairs, inside dumpsters, cardboard boxes, behind art walls, disappearing into bushes, every crack, crevice, cranny & nook

enablers may not know, nearby churches and sanctuaries provide clothes and feed "them" daily   so they bring food, clothes and styrofoam dividers to those in need

they'd know, if they slept outside their window

excerpt from poem "windows" © f. geoffrey johnson 2018