Homeless Me

The awakening cries: Body of clouds with heavy rains forecasted; But my sour visions are visitations That run as swiftly as the calming wind. I raise my voice, but soon discover that the child Is vigilant of his sound— Ears that know much pain. The heart shrivels and falls at the sight of my internal encampment; Homeless aspects of my youth ruminate in these forsaken streets; I come with a badge and a peeled eye; But my posture is crooked and my hands ache with fever. I break the silence with the cleansing light; That absorbs and wipes clean the sewage of my interior plumbing; I sit in disbelief and purge a dry tear to fathom my own Homeless self; And rescue all that sits in the abandoned and restless streets Of my urban cry that sleeps desensitized.