On Accepting Help: Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem

It’s such a common thing
among
the sisters of Zion.

So many walls up.
So much fear.
And worry.
And don’ts.
And can’ts.
And shouldn’ts.

As though they think
anyone will think
less of them
for the less
that others do
to them.

As though we
who have been
or could be
there
would ever
deride them
for seeking,
quietly,
for the help
others force them into.

They feel bad
and hide
and suffer
inside,
instead
of letting charity
never fail.

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