the dance of the ink riddled fingers

the nights get colder

Posted in heroes of mine, thought spills by enisea on 25/04/2012

The distant street light was the warmest thing in sight and still it offered little comfort.  Her shoulders had cemented into what felt like one hugely unkind knot and she couldn’t remember the last time her toes felt warm.  Her nose was a damp cold tap and eyes were tired of being restless.  The last night she’d been in a shelter was too long ago – any time unsheltered is too long; and around this time of the year, you had to be in early to get a spot.  And the loneliness – that was the worst.  She missed being hopeful.  The cold was wearing her thinner, faster than she knew what to do.

It’s been colder at night of late.  Every time I spend a decent amount of time outside in the cold, especially at night, especially in winter, I feel sad that there are people who have to sleep in it.  I can only imagine what it might be like being homeless in Melbourne’s cruel winter.  I don’t know what I would do without the support that I’ve always had – I have an incredible family, accepting friends and a supportive church – and they are the warmest parts of my life.  No doubt, my imagination would pale in the comparison with someone else’s reality.  It pains me not knowing what to do about it. I have a few spare warm clothes and I don’t know how to share them.  I don’t know how to help in my own limited capacity, but I want to.

Nobody should ever be homeless. Nobody. Ever.

And those who are are stronger than they know.

When was the last time you admired a homeless person? What? Admire?

(Please remember, it’s possible/healthy to admire the character of those in highly undesirable circumstances.  It’s possible/healthy to remember we are not above the homeless/poor/addicted/vulnerable/love-less/traumatised/ unglorified others)


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