Homeless Mississippi memory

Here’s another piece of writing by a homeless individual – a poem written by B. W. at a series of writing workshops for Nickelsville tent city residents last fall:

rainMississippi Memory

Back when the water was rising
and barrels floated
in the rising water

we baked gingerbread cookies
and the rain fell
and leaves turned red
and yellow
and brown.

The river ran deep,
muddy and wide —
paddlewheels, smoke, coal —

off in St. Louis
with my grandmother
and Mark Twain
before the Arch
after the Fall.

With a home at Freestyle Volunteer now, this poem’s no longer homeless.

And you? If you have a home, please choose one person sharing our public spaces who is isolated because homeless, and meet for coffee once a week at a cafe. Many of these individuals are interesting, inspiring companions. Ideas about how to get started are tabbed above, along with other Freestyle Volunteer stories.

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