Tag: homeless

  • Goodness in his heart

    I’m alive
    I’m walking down the sidewalk singing in the rain

    I’m not sheltered under a bridge
    As the water rises.

    I’m soaking wet
    But I do art.

    I have no money
    But my boyfriend loves me

    In the forests of the night
    I shiver

    The next day I look for a job
    I look forward.

    The kindness of strangers sustains me
    There is hope because there is caring

    Anyone who actually looks at me
    Can’t help but care

    Even if they deny me.
    Kindness of Strangers
    <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 12/11/14

    Goodness in his heart
    A smile on his face
    A mixed up mish mosh of thoughts
    Blew around his head
    He saw in small random things some logic
    Although to all others it was illogic
    He smiled at the world
    Whether it smiled back or not
    A soft inflection in his voice
    showed he thought he could get by
    But those around him,
    especially those who cared,
    Worried that he could not get by
    Without help
    Help he would not accept
    He’d smile
    And say, “I’ll be alright.”
    <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 12/14/14
    New mushroom

  • At home with the homeless

    “There is such a level of unspeakable contempt from the haves in society bestowing shame in the homeless. Homelessness stirs up fear: frightens and saddens us at the same time. Judgments are as harsh as the plight itself. Homelessness conjures up thoughts of isolation. Call it what it is: injustice, racism and a harsh reality. Often the most vulnerable suffer the most, including children, teens, single mothers, elderly and the ill.”
    Response by a friend

    “May we never get used to the poverty and decay around us.
    A Christian must act.”
    Pope Francis @Pontifex 04/03/14

    <> <> <>

    In the evening of April 3, 2014 I spent some time with Homeless Action! colleagues Adrienne Lauby, Jen Parr, Karen Martin and Adam Kirshenbaum. They inspired me, and confirmed that this is a noble effort worth pursuing. I went home and this is the poem which ensued.

    012709 Homeless but out of the wind

    These are my people.
    Not in any sense that I lead them,
    Or they belong to me.
    These are the people I belong with.
    These are the people I align with.

    I find their lives and their experiences
    To be compelling and important.
    I find their value as human beings
    On a par with the Pope and me;
    To be of equal value, of equal worth, and of equal dignity.
    I am no better than they are,
    And they are no better than me.

    There’s a famous prayer attributed to St. Francis.
    The prayer was actually submitted anonymously.
    Does that mean that a homeless God might have submitted it?

    Make me an instrument of Your peace,
    To be among those who need some peace.

    If there is hatred, and sadness, and regret
    As I sit on a cold doorstep,
    Where can I sow love?

    If I have done injury
    And have injured those I love the most
    Where is there pardon?
    The truth of my life, lived in the bushes
    Is the error.
    Can people see the truth
    As my parents did the day they named me?

    I have so many doubts.
    I have so little faith.
    Where is faith and hope?
    It is here, in me.
    If I could only see.

    In my despair,
    The hope
    Is in the intrinsic value of me
    Where I rest in darkness,
    And cold,
    And damp clothes
    That make me shiver.
    Is there faith in awaiting the light?
    Are there leaders
    And people who pull the levers of power
    Who can act on my despair
    To give me some light?

    And in the depths of sadness,
    From where I am now,
    Yes, I know joy.
    In the kindness of strangers
    Who may not know
    They have saved my life,
    My hope,
    My faith in humanity’s inherent goodness

    O Divine Master,
    Grant that I may not so much seek
    To be consoled as to console.
    On the streets
    I am at one with my homeless brethren

    To be understood as to understand;
    I understand my sisters’ plight.

    To be loved as to love.
    I love without words in the grace of each moment.

    For it is in giving that we receive.
    As giving from the heart and the meager means
    Is the true gift.

    It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
    As I hope to be pardoned by all those to whom
    My mental illness
    And use of altering substances
    Or ordinary human frustrations
    Have caused me to offend.

    Even as I too have been offended
    And then have pardoned,
    Because that is the thing to do.

    And it is in dying
    That we are born to eternal life.
    It is not the dying in physical death.
    It is the dying of selfishness and self centeredness.
    That is the death we should desire

    This is where I belong;
    Among those without a residence.
    To bring the realization
    That first, and foremost,
    And always,
    A just society gives a roof
    And warmth
    And a daily resting place to each person
    No matter what.
    061913 Downtown Santa Rosa