Poverty Has No Miracles Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Filled with anxiety over not having a place to live after
this week, tears down hope and joy, replacing them with
doubt and fear.

Life fails and exists anyway with no reasons to continue
it's waylaid journey, tasks amount to exorbitant rituals, unattainable at best.

Continued frustration from a blinded world, too full of
itself to look at the poverty it is right now growing and
nurturing.

Symbolic fragrances, running amuck, losing all semblance
of humanity as lives are left to toss upon a flotsam sea
of human waste.

Where are the miraclse read and talked about on television
and in church's all over the world?

Why is there homelessness, starvation, working poor with
no relief?

How can we call this the united states of America when no
one is united - no one cares to unite and help anyone -
except in catastrophic disaster?

What about the daily existence of people who have lost
hope and confidence in a world they helped to make?

Reality stares from all directions, except within, as
life is barely contained by many.

There are no solutions at hand, because everyone looks
away, pretending life is good for all - as another family
is thrown away and left in a dirty street, no food left
to eat.

Who claims that miracles exist where they're aren't any?