Legion

Last night at midnight

  we looked into the face

       of a homeless wretch --

    a man, living in total subjugation

        to his primal disordered brain.

With hurricane force

   he spewed raw anger,

     screaming irrationally at those

       who want to help, but can’t.

There is no shelter to contain him.

     No options. In any program. Anywhere.

Until he throws a punch,

    pulls a knife,

       jumps out a window,

he is free to wander through the night.

His name is Legion. We have seen him before.

He is gathering strength.

God bless those shelter workers

who persevere

in the face of Belial.

The panhandler

There is a space

between the lines

between the words

where there is room

for the real story of a life

to be discovered, 

tasted, smelled, handled.

**

That guy on the corner --

an aged drunk, using all guile to

extend his buzz --

was  

quoted, with all eloquence

fifty years ago. Today,

I held the magazine

and read the quote

and heard it read

and shook my head.

**

There is an instant

between the days

between the moments

when there is time

for the real story of a life

to be discovered, 

tasted, smelled, and handled.

Making friends

 

When you help Operation Nightwatch,

you are making friends, and opening doors.

You are making friends with strangers and aliens,

people who live in the shadows,

and have no place to lay their heads at night.

You are opening doors to homeless people,

welcoming them into shelter and housing,

and guiding them in the path of wholeness.

Making friends. Opening doors.

Together. Thank you for your help.