I have always been attracted to the homeless. But once in a while they're close enough that I can make eye contact. This usually happens when I'm at a stoplight and they're making their way from car to car. Once in a while I'll get that one person whose eyes will pierce my soul. I feel the overwhelming sadness and it hurts my chest.
The woman had the strongest effect on me yesterday. Exiting the expressway she was walking down the ramp. I saw the shame in the way she held her head. All I saw was someone's daughter, or mom, or grandma. I opened the window and she looked up. I smiled and gave her money as she said God Bless. I told her that I hoped God would bless her and to please be careful. Her eyes glistened and the light changed. As I pulled away I tearfully told my son to please please never become homeless...
Everyone tells me not to give them money. But I'm selective. I look in their eyes and only give to those who hit my chest like a sledgehammer. I tell everyone it doesn't have to be money. I've given them oranges, water, snacks, anything I have in the car. I once gave a man my leftover pasta and you'd think I gave him $1000.
The following is dedicated to the woman on the ramp:
It seemed like a good idea
To numb the pain and forget
I was always in control
I could stop whenever I wanted
So when did I lose control?
What happened to my family and friends?
What happened to my home?
How did I end up here?
I can’t remember the last time I felt joy
Laughter?
A good bath?
Oh what I’d give for a warm, soft bed
A warm meal
I don’t blame them for turning their backs
They tried to help
But I was too proud – I knew better
My pride is gone now
But so are they
What would they do if they saw me on the street
My hand out pleading for help
It’s lonely out here
Standing in the crowds
I must be separated by invisible walls
People don’t see me
I try to make eye contact
But they turn the other way
Look at me please…
I was once someone’s child, too.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
5 comments:
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I was going to cry, but I'm at work. Lovely dedication, wonderful prose.
ReplyDeleteReminded me of an encounter I shared in previous tribe entries when I was walking and cleaning the riverfront. She was so sad and I watched her sitting on the swing and swaying while she sobbed. I so wanted to comfort her but felt I was invading her privacy. She seemed so like me, where did we go wrong?
An acquaintance had asked me if I had become homeless when she saw me walking the roadside. Not yet.
I have a sense of awe for the homeless. It takes strength to be able to survive on the streets, to learn how to meet your basic needs. The streets must be such a harsh place. Would I be strong enough to survive like they do???
ReplyDeleteIf you are coming to Snyders tomorrow, would you bring the horse's head that you bought when on you trip?
ReplyDeleteBeautiful all the way around from your sharing of your encounter,story and poem.
ReplyDelete~v~
Writing that poem from that woman's point of view was stunning and personal. You have such empathy and I could feel it in that poem. You have a wonderful gift for words!
ReplyDeleteMy mom never turned down someone who asked for money, whether it was donating to a special organization or to anyone with their hand out. I always admired her for that, her heart was big. My dad was also in a nursing home for awhile. Mom used to give coins to the residents there who waited for her. Boy those smiles that graced those faces just for a few minutes. Till the administration chewed her out and said no more.
Thanks for sharing this. Brought up some personal memories for me about keeping the heart open to the world.