A Woman’s Dirty Hair Poem by Uriah Hamilton
A Woman’s Dirty Hair
An old car
Moves slowly
Through cold rain;
A modern city
Grows ancient
In the sad fog
Of urban despair.
A woman’s dirty hair
Is pulled
By an oily hand
In a rat-infested
Motel room.
God ignores suffering
But also kindly turns his head
To the indiscriminate sex
That helps the hopeless
Alleviate poverty-born
Unrelenting stress.
A precious precious poem..God sees us and cares for us even when we do what shouldnt be done..We are always loved by Him-I beleive that.You remind us of how fragile we are One of your finest poems, but then I just love the way you write and think Wishing you joy-Pia
Sorrow, and compassion, uniquely blended. An admirable and eloquent write.
Very thoughtful. He is the Merciful, the Compassionate and Just... this is what I think reading your poem and clearly seeing the moment and image you have captured.
powerful imagery, Overwhelming sadness. For souls like this, the angels weep. Regards, Sandra
Dear Uriah, A very fine poem revealing a very well-developed sense of social conscience and social consciousness. Best, Hugh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 7:59:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
10 from me for the sheer hopeless beauty to this poem, Uriah. Joy