In her makeshift home
made of old bed spreads
i could see he mother
bloodshot eyes as she
looked into my eyes
pleading almost dead
one soul mother daughter
two heads more than pain
it was a story of survival
gone awry i read i gave
her some money but
she said looking at my
monks dress please
bless us it is prayers
we need more than
money or bread .
i silently moved
ahead feeling guilty
a part of my humanity
had already fled
