Seattle’s Welcome Mat (poem)

Turn the corner, there’s the tent,
a fresh one, new this morning.
Not so fresh, of course,
it’s been the dwelling
of Harry and his pup Frankenmoose
for several months.
But that’s okay.
Home is where the coffee brews,
on a camp stove,
under a tarp.

I live in a city under siege
by the lost and forsaken.
Wandering up and down the warehouse districts,
lingering outside expensive restaurants,
sleeping on corners,
negotiating in parking lots.

Seattle has a big, big heart,
maybe too big,
welcoming caravans and addicts,
wandering pilgrims, embattled women,
men who fall over and men who want work,
we welcome them all.

All we need is love…
and coffee…
and public sanitation…
and opportunity…
and rehab…

All we need is a plan.

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