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i was homeless once
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festival d'automne
I Was Homeless Once
I was homeless once—
not metaphor, but pavement,
the night’s breath stiff with diesel,
a borrowed coat that never quite closed.
The city’s lights were not for me,
they glittered for windows I could not enter,
for tables where bread was broken
without my name.
I learned the grammar of benches,
the syntax of doorways,
the long pause of hunger
that makes even silence ache.
And still, the body endures—
it finds a corner,
it waits for dawn,
it bargains with cold.
But there is another exile—
homeless in a palace without you.
Marble floors echo louder than alleys,
chandeliers mock with their excess of light.
Every room is furnished,
yet emptier than a street at 3 a.m.
The bed is wide,
but no voice answers the turning.
This homelessness of heart
is less spoken of,
yet more corrosive:
to be roofed, clothed, fed—
and still unsheltered.
I was homeless once,
and I survived.
But I would not wish
the palace-emptiness on anyone.
Better the cold stone
than the warm room
where no one waits.
.
First, I commend you for
First, I commend you for exposing the brutal reality of a humanitarian crisis that should be completely unacceptable in any society that calls itself enlightened, particularly any first world country with resources, but not the political will, to end it in a compassionate way.
In my view, such hyper-individualism is a form of tyranny, so this cause has been dear to my heart for many years.
With piercing and unsparing poetic sleight of hand, you utilized your skill for setting a gripping stage to show contrast as well as parallels between physical and emotional need, with the emotional being as, if not more, excruciating to the inner self, the true self.
“Marble floors echo louder than alleys” Absolutely.
Congratulations on this example of superior talent used in the service of vital issues. Great respect!
Thank you for bringing both
Thank you for bringing both conviction and close reading here.
I share your sense that homelessness in wealthy societies
is less about resources than will, and your naming of
hyper‑individualism as tyranny sharpens that truth.
I’m glad that the hinge between physical and emotional
exile spoke to you, that your pause on
“Marble floors echo louder than alleys” felt like the loop closing.
I am so grateful to you.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
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