I hold a wad of money in my hand
The hand clenched in despair
A wad of sweaty money
That no one is willing to take
in exchange for a home

The city of Gods
Why have your rejected us?
You haven’t seen my little boy
How he giggles with joy
Or my lovely girl who needs a school

With each attempt I lose my faith
In you, the cursed town
and in your people
Greed is your name
your occupation

To be of a lower caste
To be unwelcome
In a city that has sold its soul
In exchange for gold
There is no home for us
amongst its elitist class


One thought on “Homeless

  1. Oh Parmis.

    I’m so sorry. This is what we’ve been going through on and off for three years trying to find long-term housing in this area. Each time I think I’m getting close, it seems further away. Where will you stay as your husband begins his new job? Can people at work help? Know that you’re not alone. But this doesn’t help when you need a roof for your babies, though.

    BTW: Your poem is lovely. And I know you’re doing everything as right as possible and trying every angle.

    Much love. Hang in there.


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