“Pray for me” she begs
As Beverly waits patiently for her dollar for bread
On the street corners of New York City
She’s homeless
She’s got no place to sleep tonight
It’s 20 degrees
In the city with bright lights
Yes indeed it’s the melting pot
We call America
Essentially
We’ve been blocked
The majority
Living in poverty
Homelessness is up
But the numbers don’t match
Guaranteed income
Will it be something you’ll include
Primarily in the next batch
Our families are left financially strained
With most dads in the pen
Instead of their homes
Now their kids left to stray
Moms left with rent
And the shelters are booked
Her time has run out
With the marshalls afoot
Her husband he cries
From inside of the jail
“Let me out of this hole.”
“I’m no crook.”
“And I’ve got no money for my wife or the bail.”
When he returns
To civilization
He can’t even collect
Can’t even earn a living
Most likely getting little
To no respect
What kind of resources will he have to survive
He’s broke again
A baby on the way
Believe me, he’s tried
Single moms are forced to choose between formula and diapers
“I can’t even afford a gallon of milk.”
She cries
“My light bill isn’t paid, believe me, I’ve tried, I’ve tried.”
She questions our democracy
“How can the government help?”
“You think the government cares about us poor folk?” screams Dona Carmen
She swipes her EBT card and finds out
She’s got a zero balance
Her son Paco’s on drugs
He needs money to get high
“The system’s not working cuz my Paco was left out to dry.”
“He was such a great writer but the colleges just never wrote back.”
“I don’t know what’s happened to my Paquito, he must have fell through the cracks.”
He turned his direction to the streets so they say
No family at his back
No support
So he frayed
Everyone tells Dona Carmen that he will get better
But the bills start to pile up
And soon she’ll get the nasty eviction letter
With her sons rehab on her mind
Paco’s meds are too expensive
Even his room and board with
Her checks she can’t afford
When will we be free?
From so many cracks
To be free isn’t that what this constitution states?
But all I see
With this American democracy
Is that it needs salvation
A huge proclamation
A change
So we can finish the job that we started
Without the homelessness
Without mass incarceration
We can’t leave the hopeless helpless
Its gotta start somewhere
Its an immediate necessity
For our youth
Our future
A road to our recovery
We need to take a closer look at our current systems
So we won’t feel left out of the jurisdiction
That denies us a chance
At the American dream
Cuz’ when we’re chasing the American dream
School loans are a burden for those who can’t afford it
Especially during a pandemic
The strain can be felt
To get parents back on their feet
Safety nets can sure help
We must gain the people’s trust
In order for this to work
Let’s finish the job
Continue to grow
See ourselves out of poverty
What we tried starting
A long time ago
As I am a descendant
Of Puerto Rico’s sugar cane workers
Who flew to the States
Settling all over the place
From Jersey
The Bronx
Even the commonwealth of PA
In search of something greater
Only to find out
That gandules
And coffee
The guineos they said
Were way more expensive
Than picking them
From trees
For free
Instead
Yes this democracy
Has a lot of catching up to do
First it begins with us
But it needs to include you too
A road to economic freedom
The list goes on and on
Give us a chance
To breathe
To survive
And to come out as strong
—
Behind the scenes with the author
On a recent morning, I bundled up and ventured out into the sub-freezing temperatures before dawn to navigate the New York City public transit system on my way to yet another job interview.
After about an hour or so, I finally made it to the city. The usual commuters carry their cups of Starbucks and most of the tourists carry pamphlets. Some make their way to work and the others to the local museums. Everyone is in their winter gear, boots and all. Except for Beverly — she’s got none.
In midtown Manhattan, she sits on the concrete sidewalk, in front of Starbucks Coffee Shop, begging for money. She’s homeless. She’s wearing tube socks, a few I might add, to keep the cold out. I ask if I can take a picture of her. I offered her a few dollars in return. She asked if I could buy her some meds at the pharmacy across the street. I tell her, “No, sorry I really have to go.” She asked me to pray for her instead, and I did as I headed off to the interview.
“On a single night in 2022, roughly 582,500 people were experiencing homelessness in the United States” reported the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.
According to the nonprofit organization National Alliance to End Homelessness in 2021, the Coronavirus pandemic interrupted homelessness data collection, specifically the Point-in-Time Count.
In New York City alone, according to the Department of Homeless Services, in 2022 94.6% of families with children in shelters were Black and Hispanic. This number dropped when it came to single individuals in shelters, with Asian/Pacific Islanders ranking the highest.
However, these numbers do not matter to either Beverly or me. She experiences what I see as an ongoing problem. In the days that followed, I did not see Beverly. So I decided to write a poem dedicated to her and tell part of her story.
Homelessness is not the only thing I felt I had to address, but also issues such as mass incarceration, which often leads to drug addiction and broken families. In my community, I see this happening all the time. I know many people in my community who have experienced similar hardships as Dona Carmen and Paco.
It is not only the government that loses their trust — they also believe the media is misrepresenting them. The poem was also inspired by my own struggles with poverty. I too have felt neglected and misrepresented. I hope this poem can express our concerns with the current safety nets set in place to ensure they actually reflect our present needs.