November 6,2018
What I have learned: We are all looking for family
I: Those who have are quite lucky
(by what magic do they hold onto it?)
The economic engine chews people up: meat grinder
What is that thing?
How did it come to be built?
All we are saying is give us a
chance Don’t make us victims of your engine of privilege
End genocide
End exploitation
End ecocide
Share
Name the humanity of others as important.
Name life on Earth as important.
People who demand, live in fear of losing
People who give,
live in embrace
Build your life in embrace
lose your fear.
Today is the day when the noises outside provide the
landscape of thought,
Rain patters, tires stripe wet pavement,
Engines wind and fade.
How can we secure love?
Make the world a kinder place?
What makes us kinder? Can we be kinder?
Rain patter lulls me, gifts me with sleep under my warm dry covers,
thinking of my brothers in tents, trying to stay dry.
II:
My father wanted me to be tough. He miserated that I didn’t like football, thought I would be a sissy. He thought he was being a good father, being cruel, presuming his abuses would make me stronger, give me power, did he know it would make me angry? I think he wanted me to fight back, to bully the bullies, make them fear me. I never learned that lesson. I only learned that I hated him, and felt alone.
III: Todd had a black eye and cuts on his face. I saw Todd as I ate breakfast in the food shelf dining room. I asked someone, who said, “Yea, he got beat up last night.”
I am reluctant to insert myself into another person’s moment of tranquility, but I was curious, so I asked if I could sit with him. He was very happy to have me, and he was eager to tell his story. “If it will help someone else, I’m happy to do it!” he said.
Todd grew up in Kansas City Kansas, “a white clay middle American, man of God.”
He got clean for 10 years, the ten best years of his life, he claims. His mother was unable to take care of him as a child, basically he was homeless from childhood, so it was a miracle when he met someone, fell in love and built a life, he tells me, then he lost his wife.
He relapsed two years ago, became homeless again, took Benzos, steroids, became a full-fledged addict.
“This is harder for me than for younger people. Fucking no love out here. Goddamn beasts out here. It’s way different from before 9/11.”
“Here’s the problem with being homeless. You are so lonely, every time you get some money, you spend…” and “use it to anesthetize yourself.” “Man is not meant to be alone.”
“That’s the trap. Money is the trap. Because you don’t use it to elevate yourself.”
I asked him how he got to Vermont. He bought a bus ticket. But how did he pay for it? I asked. Day labor, one hop at a time. But why? “Cities in the northeast are safe, sort of.” Except that he got beaten up last night.
So what’s next? “Waiting to get into a detox program. Act I said they’ll have a bed in a couple of days.”
“The thing that set me free forten years was my encounter with Jesus.” Whatever it takes, I thought. “I knew that I knew the creator made it clear to me that he loved me.”
“I hope my story can help someone else stay out of trouble.”
I haven’t seen Todd since I met him.
What I have learned: We are all looking for family
I: Those who have are quite lucky
(by what magic do they hold onto it?)
The economic engine chews people up: meat grinder
What is that thing?
How did it come to be built?
All we are saying is give us a
chance Don’t make us victims of your engine of privilege
End genocide
End exploitation
End ecocide
Share
Name the humanity of others as important.
Name life on Earth as important.
People who demand, live in fear of losing
People who give,
live in embrace
Build your life in embrace
lose your fear.
Today is the day when the noises outside provide the
landscape of thought,
Rain patters, tires stripe wet pavement,
Engines wind and fade.
How can we secure love?
Make the world a kinder place?
What makes us kinder? Can we be kinder?
Rain patter lulls me, gifts me with sleep under my warm dry covers,
thinking of my brothers in tents, trying to stay dry.
II:
My father wanted me to be tough. He miserated that I didn’t like football, thought I would be a sissy. He thought he was being a good father, being cruel, presuming his abuses would make me stronger, give me power, did he know it would make me angry? I think he wanted me to fight back, to bully the bullies, make them fear me. I never learned that lesson. I only learned that I hated him, and felt alone.
III: Todd had a black eye and cuts on his face. I saw Todd as I ate breakfast in the food shelf dining room. I asked someone, who said, “Yea, he got beat up last night.”
I am reluctant to insert myself into another person’s moment of tranquility, but I was curious, so I asked if I could sit with him. He was very happy to have me, and he was eager to tell his story. “If it will help someone else, I’m happy to do it!” he said.
Todd grew up in Kansas City Kansas, “a white clay middle American, man of God.”
He got clean for 10 years, the ten best years of his life, he claims. His mother was unable to take care of him as a child, basically he was homeless from childhood, so it was a miracle when he met someone, fell in love and built a life, he tells me, then he lost his wife.
He relapsed two years ago, became homeless again, took Benzos, steroids, became a full-fledged addict.
“This is harder for me than for younger people. Fucking no love out here. Goddamn beasts out here. It’s way different from before 9/11.”
“Here’s the problem with being homeless. You are so lonely, every time you get some money, you spend…” and “use it to anesthetize yourself.” “Man is not meant to be alone.”
“That’s the trap. Money is the trap. Because you don’t use it to elevate yourself.”
I asked him how he got to Vermont. He bought a bus ticket. But how did he pay for it? I asked. Day labor, one hop at a time. But why? “Cities in the northeast are safe, sort of.” Except that he got beaten up last night.
So what’s next? “Waiting to get into a detox program. Act I said they’ll have a bed in a couple of days.”
“The thing that set me free forten years was my encounter with Jesus.” Whatever it takes, I thought. “I knew that I knew the creator made it clear to me that he loved me.”
“I hope my story can help someone else stay out of trouble.”
I haven’t seen Todd since I met him.
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