We are damnifacados: homeless, junkies,
people deem us less than human.
When you pass us on a hectic street, we’re resting with
backs to the wall asking for mercy, spare change –
you look away from our weathered faces,
we feel disgrace, in our soiled clothes, our tired eyes.
The people in this apartment complex are so nice!
They smile, ask how I’m doing
I can tell they mean it by their bright eyes,
gentle body language, the way they speak of
this complex as a community.
But why does it seem so strange?
Behind these pearly-white smiles,
are they planning my demise?
What happened to the woman who
was nearly stoned to death?
Jesus said to not sin again,
but if she’s like me, she was
back in sweaty sheets later that day,
engaged in sinful acts – it’s a fact that
we’re far from saints + sainthood is
a hatred of humanity
but Jesus was half-God,
so it’s not so odd to believe
He died for me + whether I sin today
or tomorrow doesn’t matter much
because grace is free
(Photo by Laura Allen on Unsplash)