Praying For Help

she felt the baby move,
unconsciously dropped
her hand to her belly....

staring out the window
at the empty parking lot,
listening to the rain

a chair, a mattress,
an old table pushed back
against the paint peeling wall...

nothing to eat, no money,
he'd been gone for two weeks,
no phone calls, no one to call!

seventeen years old, and the
whole world crashing in....
two church ladies came by,

left her a New Testament,
and a couple of tracts...
and the law keeps circling

the parking lot each night;
roaches gather in the corner
praying for help!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!