My eyes scan the room, and I try to figure out the thoughts of those lives being lived out in front of my face. I look for the slightest glimpse of acknowledgement, the slightest understanding of what they might be going through, and most of the time I fail. You see most of the time they don't want to share their stories. They don't want to let people in too far because they are afraid of being hurt. They are afraid of the pain that someone could cause them if they knew the truth. So, sometimes I make up my own stories, I put elaborate tales to faces, I dream amazing dreams for them, and I hope that one day their situation won't require them to check in each evening, and out each morning, reserving a small cot for a safe place to lay their head before they depart for a day of walking, working, and trying to survive in the bitter cold.
I want to break down their walls, I want to get to know who they are, how they got in the situations they did, and how I could possibly help them get out of it. But sometimes our role isn't a fixer, or even a listener. Sometimes it is just the role of being present. Being present to get a fresh pillow for someone's head. Being present to fill up the water container so that thirst is quenched. Being present to make sure that everyone can feel safe no matter what their circumstances are.
In the past I know that I have judged, quite harshly in fact. I saw people, dirty, poor and I judged them. I judged them based on my own bias, my own experiences. I judged them because I thought that all they had to do in order to have a place to be, in order to not live life on the streets was find a job, and try really hard.
That's not always the case though, is it? We like to tell other people's stories for them. We like to say if only you do this, or that... then you will find yourself not living life poor, and homeless. You will find yourself successful. We like to think that we know best for everyone, while our own life is falling apart right around us. We like to think that we could never be in that situation. Some of us probably couldn't. I know that it helps me to know that I have people I can turn to, people that would take me in a moment's notice and give me what I needed in order to not have to live on the streets just scraping by. I know that.
I don't know what it is, to look around a room full of people, and truly trust no one. I don't know what it feels like to think that everyone is out to get me. That if I turn my back even for one second the suitcase with all my worldly possessions might be snatched away from me without a moment's notice. I don't know what that is like.
My eyes continue to scan the room, as I observe and do the best I can to be present in these people's lives. To not judge them for the stories that I have yet to learn. To understand them in the best way I can. To cherish the moments when I get to talk about the football game that ended only hours before, or what the Superbowl is going to look like in a couple of weeks. I cherish the moments when someone shows me a little more about the homeless community so that I don't make a complete idiot of myself doing something that I did in ignorance.
I want to see people's stories when I look at them. I want to earn their trust. I don't want to walk around life, not engaging, not feeling, and not loving. But how do I love when I am being held at arm's length. How do I love when I feel like they don't want love back? How do see past the hardness in those eyes, and view the hurt and pain that has caused so much blockage?
I see you, your eyes they tell me a story
One of pain, sadness, and regret
I want you to know that you aren't forgotten
Your story it's important
The flecks of sadness try to stream down
Your face scrunches up, and you look quickly away
I want to reach over and wipe that tear
But I know that my hand might cause more pain
I want you to know that you mean so much
This world it needs you, your creative touch
Our community wouldn't be the same without your presence
Never doubt that you are wanted, needed and loved
It seems like your eyes are full of layers of mistrust
People have let you down more than it seems possible for the short life you have lived
You try your best to put up a fight
But you keep getting dragged down, by the obstacles in each place you step
You feel beaten, abused, mistreated, and unloved
You feel caged, like you will never get a break from the pain
You want to succeed, you try your best to keep running the race
But it seems like someone is always there to trip you and make you fall on your face
I want you to know that you aren't alone
I want you to know that you do have a home
It may not be physical, you might not be able to touch it
But you have a place to be safe and reside while you transition
For love doesn't need four walls and a door
The love that I share is undoubtedly more
It stretches beyond what you can even comprehend
It is bigger and wider than the cot you sleep in
This love it breaks down the walls that you have built
It spans through the mistrust, the abuse and the threats
This love is overflowing, and I have no doubt
Once you feel it, you will understand that you were always part of the plan
Don't doubt who you are, why you were created or what you have to do
You are a part of this community, and for that I am thankful
Your eyes they tell your story
Fleck by fleck, layer by layer I understand
I'm thankful that you are here,
Don't ever give up on who you want to be
Don't let them drag you down, or change your dreams
You were made for great things, and you mean so much
This world needs you, and your creative touch
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