Jennie Foster
Our bed is under a bush with a dirty blanket for warmth. Our kitchen is a dumpster near our bed. The food is dirty and rotten, yet it fills our stomach. Our toilet is a wall or under a tree. When it’s cold outside, we are cold. When it’s hot, there is no relief for us. Every day we walk the streets with no place to go. We are not alone in our journey; we are many people that the mainstream doesn’t want to look upon.
To them, we are a useless lot. They wonder why we don’t help ourselves. Many of them wonder what happened to us that we ended up on the the streets. They believe the problem is drugs, alcohol or mental illness. These are a few of the reasons why we are homeless. Then there are those of us who have been battered, lost our jobs, the roofs over our heads, our children, with no money left in our pockets. We are destined for the streets, the bushes and the dumpsters.
Before we became street people, we had dreams. Sometimes our dreams were a family, home, jobs that could support our families. Life isn’t our dreams. We became ill, unable to work, our bills became delinquent. We are unable to pay our rent and are evicted with nowhere to go.
Standing on the street for hours, a shelter takes us in for the night. One night there is no room for us. Depression looms in the darkness of our minds. We begin to walk the street again. We desire clean food, a roof over our heads, clean clothes, clean toilet facilities, an opportunity to make a living, a place where we can start a new life.
In the depths of our lives on the streets, feeling hopeless, useless and forgettable, a thought creeps into our minds. The thought is God. If we aren’t able to help ourselves, maybe he would
help. In the corner of a concrete wall and behind a bush we fall to our knees and cry out in prayer. Death is at our door. Our lives have been so difficult that we think perhaps if we surrender to spiritual power there may be hope. Sleep creeps into that teary spot under the bushes.
When we awake it is a perfect morning. The sky is blue and the sun is brilliant. As we walk the streets that we walked the day before, in our hearts there is hope that today will bring a better life.
If you understood our lives would you help us?
To them, we are a useless lot. They wonder why we don’t help ourselves. Many of them wonder what happened to us that we ended up on the the streets. They believe the problem is drugs, alcohol or mental illness. These are a few of the reasons why we are homeless. Then there are those of us who have been battered, lost our jobs, the roofs over our heads, our children, with no money left in our pockets. We are destined for the streets, the bushes and the dumpsters.
Before we became street people, we had dreams. Sometimes our dreams were a family, home, jobs that could support our families. Life isn’t our dreams. We became ill, unable to work, our bills became delinquent. We are unable to pay our rent and are evicted with nowhere to go.
Standing on the street for hours, a shelter takes us in for the night. One night there is no room for us. Depression looms in the darkness of our minds. We begin to walk the street again. We desire clean food, a roof over our heads, clean clothes, clean toilet facilities, an opportunity to make a living, a place where we can start a new life.
In the depths of our lives on the streets, feeling hopeless, useless and forgettable, a thought creeps into our minds. The thought is God. If we aren’t able to help ourselves, maybe he would
help. In the corner of a concrete wall and behind a bush we fall to our knees and cry out in prayer. Death is at our door. Our lives have been so difficult that we think perhaps if we surrender to spiritual power there may be hope. Sleep creeps into that teary spot under the bushes.
When we awake it is a perfect morning. The sky is blue and the sun is brilliant. As we walk the streets that we walked the day before, in our hearts there is hope that today will bring a better life.
If you understood our lives would you help us?
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