Epiphany # 241 [The 'bum']
I love him.
The feeling his warm and tender face gives me is beyond inviting. Living is about more than being alive. Every person we encounter we must allow ourselves to experience. Every soul is a bridge and has a story, so what's his?
As I glanced upon the dampened cobble stone on my way to work I stumbled upon an embittered creature. His soul is as gentle as an angel, I can feel it. But, I know that the harsh realities of life have captured him. His gaze is steady upon my every motion. He counts each time I inhale. My chest heaves in and out but, not because of my breathing. I can't. I can't catch my breath. A group of school children walk by glaring and pointing. "There he is", the eldest of the brats yelp towards him. He shutters away into a darkened corner near an ally. I still stand frozen. Every person is bridge. The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. So was he my bridge or was I his? I feel tears well up in my eyes unable to control my thoughts. I take two steps forward when I do more than watch him. I look into his auburn eyes and feel him. He's more terrified of me than I could ever be of him.
Finally, I grab the strength to turn and walk. Suddenly he speaks. "I'm afraid too", he says almost in a gentle whisper. "I have kids, a wife, a life...I just don't know what happened to them", he told me a bit stronger in tone. "Oh" is all I could manage to say. I realize now not what he is but, what I've forced him to become. Society shuns him, gawking at his every attempt of being human. They each walk right past him like a another stone in the pavement, like another leaf on a tree. But, he's more than that. And, I had allowed myself to become one of them.
"Ya know, girlie...life is like trying to lick honey from a throned rose. You just gotta bite through the pain to experience the sweetness." I can tell he hasn't always been this way. I shoot him a smile and hold my head up high. Time dragged on much slower though. He went out his way to make mine easier. Still, he is a bum. I did not dare give him a dollar though, I gave him something more. I gave him a chance.
He is my bridge. I sat with him for about an hour each minute growing more comfortable.He is on some hard times but, he's grateful for every moment.He tells me stories, shares his wisdom and, I've grown to cherish that greasy smile.
There is something within him that makes me want to be a better person....
He's dirty but pure, evil and gentle. He sees the world through a different light; a light that has to be witnessed from inside out. He's accomplished all that's expected of him as a husband, father, and patriot. Still he is hated by most and feared by all. "And when the falling of your tears make a candle disappear, find a way to shine." He is more than a physical.
He is my bridge.
I love him. And, I want to be just like him when I grow up.
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3 comments:
I have a huge population of hobos around my school. They salam me and I salam them back but I am ashamed to say that they do scare me.
I envy your ness*.
*courage, selflessness, humbleness, perceptiveness.
Gostei muito desse post e seu blog é muito interessante, vou passar por aqui sempre =) Depois dá uma passada lá no meu site, que é sobre o CresceNet, espero que goste. O endereço dele é http://www.provedorcrescenet.com . Um abraço.
interesting comentary on the social framework of ...Okay enough with the BS -- that was really good-- it made me think about all the so called "hobos" i walk by each day on my way to my socially sanctioned work. Thanx.
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