Surviving

I often wonder what it's like to hear whispering's inside my head, how scary it must be to see things that nobody else seems to see.
I look at my client with his dark sunken eyes and wild hair and can't even imagine what it must be like to be him.
"I'm a survivor" he says, and he certainly is, spending most of his life homeless with little social contact.
What must it be like to count on a dumpster for food, or a soup kitchen if you haven't been banned from one...
How must it feel to spend the night curled up in the corner of an abandoned building or to live with dozens of other people in one room for months....
My "guy" is resolute in his unwillingness to sign a piece of paper that might make it possible for me to speak with his family, to be able to determine what sort of help he could get, aged and impaired as he is, yet able to speak for himself, not quite impaired enough....
He is polite yet gruff, "not right" but just "right" enough for court.
He is likable and we joke a little and I try to cajole him..."hey, I could help you at least have three hots and a cot bud..."
"nah" he says, smiling...."I'm a survivor" he says again and I smile too..."yup, you sure are."
My "survivor" goes back to jail and I go back to my desk, and my phone, and my hope......

Darker Nights and the Soul

In the lightless times of day, when one lies alone in a bed that feels too big,

With a blanket that is tucked around you like a cocoon so that the space doesn't feel so cavernous....

Thoughts run around to failures, and wanting, and falling into chasms of loneliness.

And then, sometimes too soon, slivers of sun peek in between the openings of the window shade and a decision must be made,

To get out of the too big bed, emerge from the safety of the blanket cocoon and wipe away the tears and know that life doesn't make much sense, that there are lessons, not failures, that there is only what is needed for the soul now and wanting only creates more wanting.

So the most brilliant shirt is selected to stave off the desire to dress in mourning, and a bit of sparkle is added, and the foot goes out the door.

The empty space will be filled with friends, gratitude for what is, and the knowledge that though some things have changed, there is still love and connection, different but steady.  

There is darkness and the soul, yet the midnight sky will not overtake the heart because that would be giving in, that would be accepting staying in the past and not creating a future.  That would be a soul darker than night, and giving in to that which is not light.