From the Balcony
Overlooking my balcony, I often saw Saw a gathering of women and children Mothers with babies tucked tightly in their arms They were quiet, rather orderly Not causing a disturbance, walker passed by politely Busying themselves as not to see, scurry to Catch the bus or get to their cars I saw women taking turns scavenging Through a dumpster nearby I hadn’t notice before, for food The only sound heard was a tiny cry asking Mommy, when will we get food And a voice saying, Feed My People, Feed My People And a mother’s soft voice replying Tomorrow, tomorrow my child, I hope To mor row, to mor row By Forestine C. Bynum
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