February 12, 2019
This is the fourteenth year that my church has hosted an overflow hypothermia shelter for the homeless, for one week in the winter. The county shelters are overflowing in the winter, so the area churches open their doors. I have served one night each year as one of the all-night volunteers. It has been an eye-opening experience. Below is the poem I wrote after my first time as a shelter volunteer. Only the weather changes.
The Night Shelter
Fifteen degrees above zero
A foot of snow on the ground
And the shelter wings through the night
Like the red eye bound from LA to New York
Or the transatlantic flight to London,
Heavy with sleep and dreams.
Here sleeps the Korean taxi driver,
And the Latino construction worker,
The woman with the broken ribs who flinches in her sleep,
The pregnant girl curled next to her lover, and
The man with eyes wide open who steadily talks to god
As if god could hear.
In the gray dawn one by one they will awake,
Look for coffee,
Find bathrooms,
Brush their teeth,
Pack up their bedding,
And prepare to land
In yet another day.
February 14, 2006
Beautiful and evocative of the variety of people who find themselves without a permanent place to land. Who are these people? Us. Any one of us could find themselves here with enough life crises piled upon us. It is eye opening and humbling. And, inevitably, fills me once again with gratitude.
Exactly. They are us. Thank you for your comment.