Today we remembered
one hundred and fifty-six people
who died in our city
only since last June
just because they
had
nowhere to go.
Our hearts
should break.
There were honour songs and bagpipes,
tears and hugs.
Two hundred carnations
found rest at the feet of
the statue
across from City Hall,
a statue that reminds us
that until all are cared for
we are not "whole."
Our hearts
should break.
Painted lady butterflies
were released
in honour
of one hundred and fifty-six lives
cut short
because of lack of "home" --
compassion,
family,
forgiveness,
kindness,
light,
love,
protection,
room,
safety,
shelter,
warmth,
and everything else
that "home"
means.
Our hearts
should break.
The ones remembered were
siblings,
friends,
children,
parents,
grandparents,
relations,
all
genuinely beloved people.
They are gone too soon.
Our hearts
should break.
What do their deaths mean to us?
What would their deaths mean
if they were our
siblings,
friends,
children,
parents,
grandparents,
relations,
all
genuinely beloved people?
More compassion fatigue?
Or a deeper desire to work
so that everyone
has
somewhere to go?
Our hearts
must break
and we
must act.
Change must come.
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