a poem

What happens
for you, with you,
to you; 

the client, patient,

consumer

the system

refers to.

A person, 
who, when

try as I may
I cannot
make your day
by finding you
a place
to stay.

I tried and tried,
felt like
my hands
were tied.

Not good enough.

Nowhere near

being close to

good enough

for you,
for me,
society.

Felt like

I was being

hand balled
because I was.
This is surreal,
it can't be real;
in the land of Oz.
It is.
And it's not okay,
not today
not ever.

All I could say
to you

is
I'm really sorry,
I can't find
a place,
any place,
any where
for you
to stay.
Not today.

I'm really sorry,
a great help
I'm sure,
as yet
another door
closes
for you. 

Like

you told me

it would.

What now
and how
did it come 
to this
for you
and

other people 
too.

Where
did you go,
sleep in your car
or 
under the stars?
Perhaps, maybe;
yes.
I don't know,

won’t know.

Are you 
in the big city
on the street

some place?
That's where
you said
you'd go.
No way:
probably,
I don't know.
What a 
damn shame.

Not here
we say,
this 
is not right

not okay.
Shouldn't happen,

wouldn’t happen,

couldn’t happen;
does happen, 
is happening.

It’s not our way,

the way:
or is it?

What is our way
anyway?
What's that mean?
I'm keen to be shown
what I 
don't seem
to know
anymore.

This can't be
the way

not now
not in 
the 21st century:

never: how?

Don't tell me it's so

that it's the way
it goes.
Really, I get it,

I'm beginning to see 
that's life 
each day
for too many
people here.

It's outrageous!
So, 

what can I,
we, this society "do"
for this 
to be different
for you: soon?

lanie