I see you… standing there on the corner.
A cigarette hanging from your mouth, your fingertips are yellowed by the repulsive habit. Your hair is dirty, there is no color… just the color of alone, empty, left-over. You’re clothes are disheveled. I imagine you sifting through the pile of used clothes, strewn across a cold concrete floor –piece milling your outfit together, hurriedly before anyone else joins you. Then you pick out your mat and place it in a spot close to the bathroom, you think you have a better chance of sleep with the faint light creeping under the door — the complete dark of the large room scares you.
I know this about you… I can see it.
Once your mat is in place you sprint to the front of the line for food… you know you have a better chance at seconds if you’re at the front, you know this because you watched the others those first couple of times and the power of osmosis gave you the knowledge to survive these nights. When you have your food, you pick the table closest to the front… closest to the line. You can gauge the quantity of food left and when you need to get back in line. Your eyes dart back and forth between the line and your food only you can’t even see your food — you don’t care. It’s hot. You eat. You look right through your plate to the memories of a life you think must have been lived by someone else.
I know this about you… I can see it.
I can see the baby being held by a mother — love in her eyes, a smile on her face. Her hair falls gently past her shoulder and tickles your cheek as she sings Van Morrison and there you are… into the mystic. Dancing around in her arms, clinging to the warmth of her breath, inhaling the sweet scent of her dreams — the dreams she had for you. The report card she knew she would frame, the touchdown she knew you would catch, the college she knew you would attend… she knew you would have her gypsy soul. And she danced and she twirled and you closed your eyes and…
I know this about you… I can see it.
When the morning comes you gather your things… a backpack with clothes, a toothbrush, a marker, matches — your cigarettes. You stand in the line again, waiting for your breakfast and the sack lunch for later. You put it all in your backpack and you wait outside for the van to leave and carry you back to this corner — this corner where I pull up to everyday and I watch you put that cigarette to your mouth and I see your yellowed finger tips and I wonder if anyone ever held you in their arms. I wonder if you ever knew the hope of someone who believed in you. I wonder if anyone ever gazed down on you while you were sleeping and wished you dreams of unicorns and bunny rabbits and clouds shaped like hearts. I wonder if anyone ever stood up for you — I wonder if you remember.
I see you… standing there on the corner.
Really loved this! I sometimes have such thoughts at street corners, too.
Then I’m in good company! Thanks Miguel.
I had a big smile for the man on the corner I saw recently.
🙂
Perfect. 😉
sharp, beautiful views from you perspective.
Thank you so much!
Wow, such an emotionallly charged post. I remember when I lived in the UK and worked in Oxford I would pass a lot of homeless folks while I was out walking on my lunch break. It broke my heart one winter when I saw a volunteer going around doorways checking their pulses to see if they were still alive. It’s a moment etched in my memory.
Oh wow Kathryn. An image like that will stay with you a lifetime. I so appreciate seeing you here and am looking forward to catching up on your blog this weekend!
Your pen flows with the ink of love. God bless your sweet soul.
Wow — this is exactly what I needed. Thank you. Humbled.
Insightful and thought-provoking write, Becky. They do make one wonder as we pass them by. Nicely done!
http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/09/30/bubbles-and-lies/
Thank you Charles! I always look forward to seeing you here — will read you tonight!
wow an amazing write about street people and the life on the street. You have captured this so well how in the morning you gather your things then go and stand in line once again waiting for your breakfast well done
http://gatelesspassage.com/2011/09/29/bubbling-potion-of-love/
Thank you — I can’t get this encounter (fictional as it may be) out of my head. I really want to explore it more.
a lovely touch on all walks of life, thanks for keeping your eyes wide open.
you rock.
🙂
My eyes are definitely wide open at this point.
Thank you!
Excellent write, well done. A lot of insight here. Well done
Thank you!
wow, b! as with all of your writing, you pull me in and i am standing right there, seeing what you see, feeling what he feels, wondering what life threw at him that took him from the {hopefully} loving arms of his mother to that street corner.
i can never refuse to give someone a dollar if they ask because all i can think of is there but for the grace of God, go i. your empathy is amazing!
sending much *Love* and bunches of *Big Sparkly Squishy Hugs* ♥ d
Thank you Dani. There are times I don’t have a dollar to spare, that’s when I think about Terre and give a smile and a thought.