To walk through Downtown LA’s Skid Row
is to walk through a domestic warzone
where the wounded, the hurt, the broken,
the abandoned, the ignored, the rejected
must fight against the red tape and prejudice
that stands between them
and a chance to survive
with some semblance
Not all wars involve guns
Not all famines involve food
Not all wounds are physical
The number of soldiers we have
and missiles we build
and bombs we detonate
will never heal this place.
2 thoughts on “battleground”
So much love for this poem, for you.
Thanks, Pia. Is there a place I can read your recent poetry?
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