I live in a sleepy suburb of a Washington, DC.
A place where there are few sidewalks but many homes.
A place where you don’t always see the pain of another until the leaves fall and the wind begins to howl.
It is different in the city – less room, more visible.
Here, I didn’t know...
that in the woods near the W*lmart stands a tent that someone calls home.
I have been to Haiti. I have seen a post earthquake tent city.
is a Home?
I don’t want to see but I can’t look away.
When you “see” what do you do?
© A Sacred Longing 2009-2011