Claimed

Poem about people who are still with me.

Claimed

Yesterday, I walked a bridge,
to see 'ole Mexico,
and have a few cervezas.
Halfway across,
two girls with long black hair,
in knots, begged of me.

Back home, a call,
a child;
raped, abused, passed around,
hangs from a belt.
In a closet.

A handsome young man,
cute, with Syndrome, Downs,
carefully and diligently,
his hair proudly gelled,
his shirt ironed,
his sleeves rolled back,
can spare me a smile,
As I leave him alone, again,
to clean that rest stop “john”.

I cannot help, when tears do come,
Not one will I indulge,
by letting it fall.
Instead I will hold them,
to reclaim those into me
who are in each of them.
I must stamp down upon these grounds,
So together, we will shake the very earth.