…and feel ashamed…

Art by Rob Goldstein
Writings from homeless people in Clarion Alley

At night I hide beneath my blanket like a
boy afraid of the dark and feel ashamed.

I hear sweet music and remember
something good and feel ashamed.

I see photos of murder victims and wonder
what they thought in those last moments
and feel ashamed.

I walk past weddings and imagine the bride #
and groom screwing and feel ashamed.

I reach for the ghost of a long dead
lover and feel ashamed.

I open my eyes to discover that I’m
still alive and feel ashamed.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2016

8 thoughts on “…and feel ashamed…

    1. In this piece the shame is over things for which I’m not responsible. I did not abuse myself as a child, I did not ask for a childhood in one of the more hateful States in the Union nor would I have chosen it. I did not vote to undo the New Deal which was designed to spread opportunity and to encourage the evolution of our Democracy and I would never place my right to own a machine designed to terminate life above the safety and educations of my children. Shame has a place in our lives, especially when we have behaved shamefully. Too often those who should be ashamed of themselves dump the responsibility for their actions on their victims. This is the shame that I’m talking about in this poem. Thank you for your comment. It made me think and that’s always good.

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