Homeless

A few weeks ago a homeless man offered me some food

Sandwiches, still wrapped

Still cold

Fresh from the deli

They looked good

But I told him

No thanks

Because I’ve got diet restrictions

Because my mom had already invited me to dinner

… Because…

I didn’t know how to accept charity from the homeless

I was too out of my element to be gracious

So I refused

But I couldn’t walk away

He was an island

Maybe a fragile one

Isolated,

Impermanent

Already sinking,

Day by day

Deeper

Into the sea of obscurity

So I sat to chat

For a while

He had a lot to say

And if you run into him yourself,

And you stop to listen

He might tell it all to you too.

He might lift his shirt to show you the scars

On his ribs

You won’t be able to see them

But they’re there

He’ll tell you so, with wide-eyed sincerity

His scars still hurt, he got them when he was tortured

He might hold up his fingers

And let you know that They shattered all his bones

Crushed them like stale crackers

And he might tell you that you’d see the crumbs clear as day

If he could just find a doctor that he could trust to do the X-rays

But he can’t trust doctors, doctors are in league with Them…

The same shadow organization that

Keeps

Sabotaging every one of his job apps

They keep him homeless because of what he knows

He might tell you

If he went public, his secret knowledge would start a civil war

So they keep him homeless,

That way nobody will believe him

And

And he might tell you more about how They tortured him,

How they gave him the worst torture anybody has ever had

To make him evil

And sick

To program him

To be an assassin

And he might tell you how they couldn’t break him

How he escaped

How he sabotaged their Secret Organization on his way out

And how now, all these years later

He has to sleep with one eye opened

He might tell you how they still send stalkers after him all the time

Because to them, he’s not an island

He’s a fortress that must be sunk

Because what he knows makes him dangerous

What he knows makes him a threat to National security

But he’s not scared, because he could kill them if he had to

Oh yes! He could kill them, no problem

Because he was trained

To be an elite assassin

They told him to kill the good guys

They programmed him to be evil

But he broke free

He

Broke his programming before it could break him

And he might tell you how he would never be able to kill anybody

Unless they were a bad guy

Unless they were a rapist or somebody who hurts kids

Then he could kill them,

Then he would kill them

Easy, no problem

And he might tell you how he hates how

Everybody knows the secrets organizations are raping kids but nobody has the courage to do anything about it

But he has the courage to

Fight back

Because he’s an island

Not a sinking island

But an unsinkable one

Built like a fortress

He is Alcatraz

And

He is not afraid of anything

And when he smiles you’ll see the broad sadness in his eyes

And he might tell you how he can’t tell you his secrets

Because if you knew

What he knew

Then you’d be a target too

Because the people following him

Would go after you

How they’d sink you!

He’ll say he doesn’t want that to happen

And how you wouldn’t stand a chance against the people trying to kill him,

Because you’re not trained as an elite assassin

Like him

And he may tell you how God is calling him to be a priest, to give God all the glory

And he may look at his feet, and if he does you’ll look too and realize he’s bare foot.

You might see the fungus cracking it’s way through his toe nails,

And you might see how pale his toes are

Like they never see the sun

And you might figure that means

He has shoes stashed somewhere, that being barefoot

Right now

Is a choice

And you might think about the people who say going barefoot is better for your soul

How some say it grounds your energy to that of the earth

And you might wonder if the living grass would feel nice beneath your own soles,

But

You will keep your boots on

Because you’re not as free as him

And he may tell you that

He doesn’t really know if the seminary is the right choice

Because he worries

They might just be trying to silence him with religion

And he may tell you how he’d rather be homeless, sleeping on the dirt

With nothing

Than be a millionaire in a mansion

Because even with nothing

At least he still has his soul

And he might tell you how he could never be be comfortable in a mansion

When there are kids getting raped and killed out there

And as the sun begins to set you’ll finally inch away

You’ll note it was high overhead when you sat for The Little Chat

And you might see the sunlight like fire in his eyes and you might realize that his eyes remind you of your father’s or your mother’s or your brother’s or your sister’s

Or your own

And you might wonder if this man could be a long lost cousin— or maybe a half-sibling the family doesn’t know about.

And as it gets darker you might insist that you have to go

But you might wonder

Where does this man shelter?

*

And as you drive away, you’ll think of the other homeless people you’ve seen— really seen.

You’ll think of the girl who looked wild and afraid on the streets of NYC,

She was writing something

Some writhing script

In a scribbled notebook

You tried to say hello

You wanted to ask if she was okay

But before you could say anything

She held up a hand, and turned away

And said only:

“no”

You’ll wonder if she thought you were trying to get her alone

When you were only trying to make sure she wasn’t

Alone

And in danger

And you’ll think of how your heart broke to even catch a glimpse of her reality: so alone that she must build walls against those who would see her as a thing to buy

And to use

You’ll think of the homeless who have to defend themselves against solicitation

And you’ll think of the man you saw sleeping on the cold, winter concrete when you left a warm restaurant with your friends

Late at night

And you’ll remember how your friends looked at you when you took off your coat and draped it over his insensate shoulders

How they thought you were a fool, to waste your time and your clothing on the wretched

And how you’ll wonder how they could walk by a man who would have been shivering if he were awake

And offer nothing…

And you’ll think of the guy who used to beg on the corner near your house

And you’ll think how disgusted you were when you he showed you his weeping legs,

With the blood and the pus dripping down

From his ulcers

And you’ll remember how you brought him a chair so he could sit and rest his ruined, swollen legs

And you’ll remember offering him food and water

And you’ll remember the guy who guy who was walking

Bare headed

On the coldest day of the year

And how you gave him your favorite hat—

To save his frost bitten ears

And you’ll think how you still miss that hat,

Even today

And you’ll think of the homeless woman you met dumpster diving— who told you she couldn’t understand why the government wasn’t just giving everybody phones that never needed to be charged

And how she said batteries running out of juice had to be a scam

And you’ll remember the homeless vet, who smiled the whole time he was talking, even though he was

Telling you

About how he was

Betrayed

By his friends

By the VA

And by society

The one who was so excited to go to the next No Kings protest

The one who couldn’t stand trump’s

Corruption

And you’ll remember how you marveled

To see such resilience and such strength for others from a man who had every reason to

Give up on the world

and as you drive away,

Thinking all these thoughts and more, you’ll wave goodbye to the elite assassin

And next time you see him he’ll have his ragged bags

Slung over his ragged shoulders

And he’ll be hiking down the road

With his boots on

Away from the stalkers

And towards the glory of God

***

***

***

Author’s note:

I spent a winter living homeless, but I was lucky. I had a car and camping gear, and I actually enjoyed the quiet and freedom.

And I still had people to lean on.

But I know many have it much worse, and for much longer spans of time.

I encounter homeless people often, and when I have stuff to give I do— sometimes it’s the water or snacks I have on hand, sometimes it’s the jacket or the hat I was wearing, or the camping gear from my car, and sometimes when I have nothing to give I just give them some time, a bit of company and a sympathetic ear.

All I had to give the guy I met last weekend was time and an ear. I stopped what I was doing and listened to him, for as long as I could.

That in and of itself was not unusual, but him offering me food and beer was.

That was the first time a homeless person had ever offered me anything, and I still don’t know what to think about it.