Poems From The Heart

Previously

…I had built the foundation. I had secured the door. The harshness of the street had been exchanged for the harshness of relentless labor, but the labor now contributed to a tangible, movable asset: stability, safety, and the potential for growth. I looked at the hot plate, thinking about what I would cook tonight. Not canned soup, not stale bread. Perhaps I could afford a whole onion and a small package of ground meat. A real meal. I took the new, silver key and placed it on the small counter next to the hot plate. The key to my own door. The next stage felt less about clinging to survival and more about learning how to live again.