I approached the familiar chair,
And sat, breathing out the stress of the day.
Looking around, familiar faces with almost-remembered names
Flashing back and forth on the TV.
In my hand is just water,
But it feels like a tell.
I sit, all my possessions within reach.
Everything that makes me what I thought was
Unique
Fearless
Strong
Is hidden behind my leg.
Embarrassment and shame engulfs me again.
Another hotel lobby, because no bed welcomes me.
A bag filled with donated miscellaneous mystery meat
Cans I bow down for, gratitude for something
For something someone found.
From Easter, or Christmas, 15-20-30 years past.
No good for people,
To the homeless it's passed.
The chair is familiar.
It is the chair I sat in when I realised -
Pity is not low enough,
Disgust is not deep enough.
You know how you feel when you see them.
Sat outside because no one welcomes us in.
-
Author:
Anna Wakey29 (
Offline) - Published: April 1st, 2026 04:13
- Comment from author about the poem: I have recently been made homeless, and my local council are putting me and my partner in hotels as temporary accomodation until we find somewhere. Unfortunately I am disabled which makes the whole situation worse as he has to care for me too. We have to rely on food donation. This was me trying to put it into words.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
There is such an empty feeling to this poem where the image of an empty, used and discarded tin can comes to mind. Left on a trash heap. Usefulness gone now it is just a burden of disposal left to take care of. If it can be removed far from public concern, buried and ignored then all the better. It is sad and a commentary on society and how we treat the margins of society where many reside day to day hand to mouth. Powerful stuff well written and a fave for its emotional power
Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you are enjoying my writing.
You are most welcome
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