RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Surreptitiously searching for a place to call my own,
wondering interiorly if it will ever happen in my lifetime.
There's never been a space for me, its always been taken
away time and again.
Knowing life is a temporary stance, yet seeing many people
who have a home for their entire time on earth.
Where is the justice, the fairness supposed to be?
Why is it hidden away and reserved for certain people only?
Walking away, tears flowing, knowing I will never belong on
earth, because I am a poet.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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