#junopoetry

When a person dies

on the streets

where do they go?

do they go to heaven?

does anyone miss them?

does their family know?

and if they went to heaven…

do they have a home now?

or are they still sleeping

on a sidewalk,

I like to

watch the rain

fall-

watching rain

fall

gives me

peace

Falling rain

reminds me-

what rises

to the sky

will someday

come back down-

down,

to the boring

poor

I am not grateful

for ignorance;

I am not grateful

for prejudice;

I am not grateful

for hate;

I am not grateful for Trump,

and I am not grateful for the far Right;

who, despite being called so,

Home is a house—

but home is also a cardboard box

Home is an apartment—

but home is also an alcove in a store

Home is a condo—

But home is also a gym mat on the floor

Home is a cottage—

But home is also a tent near a highway

Home can be a choice—

but sometimes,

a home is not a choice—

illumination

is how I feel, when the sun

They chase and they chase,

following my footprints- I’m