Lost

Down in the streets,
On the corner of an alley,
A girl walks in a housecoat,
Her arms wrapped tight around her,
To keep her body warm from the uninviting cold.

She doesn't remember who she is,
She doesn't even remember her family.
People stare at her,
As if she escaped a mental insititution.
She hears concerned voices,
Asking for her safety.
She doesn't trust them,
and starts at a run.
Her legs pushing her faster and faster,
Away from this filthy and cruel place.
She ran
and ran
and ran
and ran
Until her legs couldn't push any more.
The girl collapses in the snow,
In front of a statue of a beloved saint.
The saint's eyes were looking down on her,
As if he knew who she was.

The girl huddled against her barelegs,
with only a housecoat and hospital gown
to keep her warm.
She looked into the carved eyes of the statue.
The girl smiled as if she knew he was God.
She sighed and lied her head against
the foot of the statue.
The girl closed her eyes,
and drifted off to an eternal sleep.