Doorway

Thousands of people sleep rough in the UK and many more are dependent on hostels, shelters and temporary accommodation; most through no fault of their own. 

We are suffering from a serious shortage of social housing and a serious shortage of social responsibility. 

Doorway

The doorway is my home
wrapped against nature's bitter bite
I lie here freezing and alone
In swaddling clothes I rage against the night

I see the world pass by 
in varied states of mind they walk
briskly past, they avoid my eye
and disappear into the closing dark

They do not think that I
once had what they had, home and hearth
that has now gone, so easily 
and blamelessly I lost my own self worth

How not to feel downcast?
the ruthless wind cuts like a knife
an empty plastic cup blows past 
It is a cruel mirror of my life 

I too was thrown away
discarded like that empty cup
left to the winds of fate as they
wait for the dawn machine to sweep me up

I think - Where is the hope?
At Christmas time where is the cheer?
There is no helping hand or rope
To drag me from the slough of pain and fear

So spare a tiny thought
For those less fortunate than you
Who by the Grace of God are brought
to a shuttered door they may not walk through


(c) Tim Fellows 2017