Winter Gray

By Andrew R. Duckworth

There’s not a more somber and dreary day
Than when people are starving in the street
In harsh and bitter times of winter gray.

The old men in the street can’t find their way
To regain their strength with enough to eat.
There’s not a more somber and dreary day.

The young men in the street have words to say
Before they end their day in paper sheet
In harsh and bitter times of winter gray.

The darkness creeps along as if to stay
On faces young and old that have been beat.
There’s not a more somber and dreary day.

Those at the top seem to think that’s okay
Because they can stand on their own two feet
In harsh and bitter times of winter gray.

And so, the rich man tells us, come what may
That the homeless that wait are but concrete.
There’s not a more somber and dreary day
In harsh and bitter times of winter gray.

I feel as though, out of all of my more recent poetry, this one deserves a bit of commentary. Homelessness is something that I’ve always feared. Even as a child, when even the idea was a bit irrational because I was secure, I had this fear. Perhaps it is because I knew I wouldn’t survive a second on the street. But I’ve also always had a heart for those who live on the street. It has always been something that pains me to see. Ideally, everyone would have a warm home to go to. This is, however, not the case, some instances by choice and others not. Regardless, the winter months are some of the hardest and deadliest. If it is one thing a lot of people have learned over the pandemic and the consequences imposed by self appointed overlords, the certainty of having a home to go to is no longer a reality for many. While we should be generous year-round, the winter months are particularly important. If you’re able, get involved, volunteer, and show love.