here sit i
in my warm comfy clothing ..
in this intimate-y coffee shop with my connected cell and a worthwhile book ..
with the chatter from the adjoining restaurant serving up multicolored 'noise' to drown-out my barking mind pointing long fingers in my direction
i sit here while un-counted others roam the streets and find lodging in public spaces to while-away their seemingly endless cycle of surviving the encroaching insanity of nothing solid, no fixed place, no acceptance, no fitting-in, nothing to rely on or fall back on
no hope ..
in my comfort and security i dare not disregard my family, living in their insecurity and the constant threat of violence and aggression which could jump out from anywhere anytime ..
the level of stress underpinning such existence surely is degenerative, not merely emotionally and mentally, but physically, at the level of the gut, pulsing poison into every operating system of their body
and too soul-ly, questioning the very existence that screams cruelly in their face, mouth stretched wide, opening dark ominous avenues that lead down, only down, cavernous void spilling death-scented vapors into my atmosphere
how on earth do they endure the night, tonight, tomorrow night, tomorrow's tomorrow night?
are they impervious to the never-ending flow of putridity drowning their present-space wherever they happen to be?
do i realize the brave-ity required to get up out of my night-space and to face the oncoming traffic again, on this another dread day ?
there is a certain resilience, a rebellious resistance to the daily challenge to my integrity, my sense of self-worth, my own estimation of Me as a human ..
how long does it take for that to unravel, leaving me threadbare, skin-on-bone, bereft of any substance, like some wispy tumbleweed blown across hot dry shadeless spaces, no place to lodge?
a determination lies there, a persistent intention to not let the indistinctiveness of my existence force me over the edge into freefall .. down down into the dread darkness of the gaping mouth where Death lives
i must respect that nobility of spirit that calls every morning with the cock's crow to get-up, straighten-up, pick-up, and head face-first into the oncoming hopelessness
there's grit there
..
and then there are those whose mind slowly folds-in on itself as the shadows grow longer, darker, struggling desperately to deny that this could really be reality, the way things are
and so they develop friendships with their other Selves, thereby revoking their relationships, finding solace in conversations with their shadow-intimates ..
it's just become too much to continue processing, day after day, night after night, confrontation after confrontation, resistance to their Being staring them in the face with a big "NO!" wrapped in a speech bubble
.. life simply shouts "NO!"
as i sit enjoying the opportunity to spill my mind on paper, knowing that tonight's 30s will be eased by the conditioned space where i dwell .. what is my relation to those, my friends, my human family, who will steel themselves against the night's demons, staring into a dark sleepingbag or blanket, praying no one challenges your tenure here in this place tonight? whether flashing blue light or desperate desperado
what should my motivation be? my attitude? my intention? ?
i ask for mercy of the One who lives there with them in that bag, and body-warmth, and comfort, and peace
i ask for peace
in Jesus' name
