I have held out
Ashamed and aching palm
For a pittance
To buy milk
For my child-
My soul searched
In vain
For dark corners
To hide itself-
My eyes fell
Before the pity
And contempt
In strange eyes-
Could this money
Buy me threads
To stitch my tattered soul?
My self-respect
Stood naked
In the sunlight,
Aware
That it needed
Money
To buy a raised head-

A little hand
Reached out
To hold mine
In anxiety-
Eyes,
Holding a future,
Questing my face-
I raised my head,
Tucked my hand
Into my tatters,
And walked,
Scarred,
Holding the hand-
Aware of the sunlight
And what
Money couldn’t buy.