What Do They Know?

As I am sitting here, working at the homeless shelter in Chicago, my thoughts wonder to all the homeless, the Roma, and the gypsy/bohemian/nomad/travelers of the world, especially those in dire situations...

~ Morria

What Do They Know?

I sit here in this room,

nothing but this bag to call my own

Why am I here?

What has happened?

They say I am a streetrat, 

an outcast, a vagabond.

What do they know?

I sit here praying,

Family's still on the move,

Why are we hated?

What have we done?

They say I am a streetrat, 

an outcast, a vagabond.

What do they know?

I sit here in this slum,

nothing but rot to call a home.

Why don't they care?

How could things change?

What do they know?

We have a history,

We have names.

We are humans.

We are everyone. 

MMN - 2009 

Wandering Soul

For a friend....

Wandering soul with no name of your own.
Wandering soul so all alone.
You wander to and fro
with no home of your own.

Wandering soul, seek you companions?
Wandering soul, seek ye friends?
Wandering soul, seek ye a name of your own?

Wandering soul, seek ye the new road.
Wandering soul, seek ye the heavenly way.
Wandering soul, open thine heart and thy soul
for many do love thee.

© 2004 MMH/MMN

~ Morria