It is beyond amazing,
the touch that the human spirit is fated towards,
when the path permits.
I have had an incredibly transitional year,
existence,
maybe many lives.
As the darkness descends,
I feel the hopelessness
and become absorbed
in the journey of survival.
It is in the power of destiny
that I relish the opportunity to participate.
I have been reduced
to making a living in the strangest ways
and I replied to an ad for some free things,
talked to what I sensed
was a gay man with something to hide.
I felt some strange energy from this guy,
something askew,
but I decided to make the trip.
He told me many things,
I thought I heard that someone had died,
he needed everything gone immediately
and maybe he said that he was taking a bus,
but my deaf ears
were lost to his soft and desperate voice.
With my understanding of sounds,
he could have said anything
other than what I gleaned
and with suspicion
I weighed the risk.
Through obstacles
I arrived at a very nice house
with a for lease sign,
out comes a young and anxious man,
grateful
and lost.
His eyes burned of pain
and his lips were chapped
and bruised from biting them.
He needed money for a Budget Suites
or someplace cheap
and was willing
to take anything
for the few things
crammed into the one car garage.
He asked for two or three hundred,
but I have nothing,
been living in a campground.
I had $23.00 dollars to my name
and he said he would take it.
Mom put $20.00 dollars with mine.
He explained that his lover (male) had died of AIDS and left no will.
The family came in and took everything,
he didn’t know how to handle the police and group of greedy relations,
so he let them take his life,
his lover’s,
his grief and loss,
and turn it into a circus
that he had no strength to muster a fight.
Tears were in his eyes,
and I didn’t know until later
he said he would hug us if he knew us better.
I think that meant he has the same sickness.
I wish my ears could have heard….
I would have embraced him with all the strength in my body.
His eyes and loss are haunting me.
I didn’t want to take anything,
but he insisted these things needed to go,
while not wanting to be present.
I can only imagine
what thoughts of his destiny
must have been in his heart.
I can’t get the desperate look of his face out of my mind.
I told him I’d look for help for him.
This is my effort to reach out for him.
He has nowhere to stay,
no time to grieve;
he is trying to survive what is left of his life.
I could write a book from the look in his eyes,
the smell of his desperation
and the energy of his being.
I will look for AID for him.
I only hope it isn’t too late.
Langue d’Amour
11 years ago
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