Posts Tagged ‘displacement’

Place, My Place

February 10, 2017

Place

A Place, a place with a capital P. No one knows the importance of Place better than the homeless. Finding a place to live, a roof over one’s head is important, often more than important. It can be a matter of life and death. My heart is in agony, sheer agony. I cannot afford the street, the sidewalk, and I cannot afford a roof. The first is cold and stiff and the other has to have lots and lots of dollars attached to it. I look for answers. I have been looking for answers for years. I have found nothing.

 

 

 

Hard Tears

November 23, 2016

The face leans against the glass window of a closed store. It is dark. Tears try their best to come out. The mouth opens in an attempt at a scream. No! Don’t look! I don’t want you to look. What have I become? I am a thing, less than a thing. I have just sat for hours on the sidewalk. People walked by. Almost none saw me. The air was like ice. The cheeks hurt.  The legs were rigid. The legs were the legs of a robot.

Life without Dinner

November 18, 2016

Life without Dinner

Not today—definitely not today. Not last week, either. Not even a month ago. How many days, how many nights, without it? It once was called a square meal. A square meal seems like a dream, like it happened so long ago that it never happened at all. It’s bread and cheese. Bread and cheese with maybe a small yogurt. That is what passes for dinner these days.

 

 

 

Safe

November 5, 2016

Safe

One side of the head had white hair; the other side had brown hair. The woman was bending over a light brown paper shopping bag. “It’s here. I found it.” She looked up at the other woman. “Don’t take things that don’t belong to you.”  The voice sounded harsh, almost like a cat hissing. “I didn’t. “ The other woman’s eyes stared at her. “I found it and I was going to turn it in before I left the building.” I am done with all this. At least, I wish I was done with all this. She didn’t say this out loud. My life. I don’t like how this makes me feel. The first woman saw the older woman’s green bag. In a minute, all the contents were all over the floor, the dog food, the water, everything. “Help! Help!” The older woman yelled these words. Nobody in the room moved. “Do you think that if I had really taken your brown bag I would have stayed here?” She picked up her stuff, put it in the green bag and walked out the door. “Stupid.” Somebody yelled to her back.

Forest

October 27, 2016

It is green, very green. It is huge, very huge. I had e new er been here before. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know what to do. Where should I go, which way? Should Io go left or right, north or south, east or west? I don’t know. I am scared. Soon it will be night and everything will be dark. Will I rest against the trunk of a tree? Will I be able to find a tree, any tree? I need directions and there aren’t any. Living by my wits and my wits only is hard.

La Momia Revised

October 8, 2016

La Momia, Revised

She held the bath stuff in her arms—the bar of soap, the small towel, the comb. Her slippers were next to her bare feet. She had seen the fat man go into the bathroom, his pink cotton robe covering what it could of his body. He wasn’t coming out. She was tired. All she wanted was to wash off the day’s dirt and grime off of her. The door opened and the fat man started to come out, one foot, two feet, one leg, two legs. Her own feet flew her to the bathroom. “La Momia,” he said. “I see that we have La Momia still here.” “La Momia? I wonder who the real mummy is around here? I am not a dummy.” she asked herself.” Is it you? Yes, it has to be you. You are the dumb one.” She closed the bathroom door quickly. From the kitchen she heard the fat man’s voice talking with the woman making dinner. “The mummy has nowhere to go.”

La Momia

October 7, 2016

La Momia

She held the bath stuff in her arms—the bar of soap, the small towel, the comb. Her slippers were next to her bare feet. She had seen the fat man go into the bathroom, his pink cotton robe covering what it could of his body. He wasn’t coming out. She was tired. All she wanted was to wash off the day’s dirt and grime off of her. The door opened and the fat man started to come out, one foot, two feet, one leg, two legs. Her own feet flew her to the bathroom. “La Momia,” he said. “I see tht we have La Momia still here.” “La Momia? I wonder who is the real mummy around here?” she asked herself.”Is it you. Yes, it has to be you.” She closed the bathroom door quickly. From the kitchen she heard the fat man’s voice talking with the woman making dinner. “ The mummy has nowhere to go.”

 

Out

July 25, 2016

Out

Yes, out. That’s right. I need an out. I need to push myself out of the quandary, out of the situation. It is hard, often extremely hard. I can express my feelings now because I am calmer, but when I was in the thick of things, I couldn’t think straight. I sincerely couldn’t. I see, I look around me and I can’t believe what I see. It is chaos. It is living in some nowhere place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BigDeal

July 14, 2016

Big Deal

She knocked on the door, her hand on her mouth. “Please come out. I need to use the bathroom.” Behind the door she could hear a young voice humming a tune. More minutes passed. The door remained closed. She sat down and put her soap and towel next to her on the chair. A woman walked from the kitchen to the bathroom door. ”Come out of there. She needs to use the bathroom.” The young girl yelled something. The door of one of the bedrooms opened. A middle-aged man with a paunch asked: “What is going on here?” The woman who had been in the kitchen explained the situation. “The lady here needs to get in the bathroom. She’s not feeling well.” The man shrugged. “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t drag her out by the hair.” “Please,’’ the boarder’s voice was weak.” I almost fainted on the subway. I just want to take a short shower and go to bed.” The man shrugged again and knocked on the door. “Come out, Madeleine. She’s making a big deal out of you being in there.” I am making a big deal? The boarder thought. ”This man lives here without paying rent. Thanks to me, he can do that. I pay rent.” After more minutes, the door finally opened. “This is your house, Madeline,” the man told his girlfriend daughter. “You can do what you want here.”

 

 

 

 

 

No!

July 2, 2016

The water was hot. She washed the dishes as fast as she could. I want to listen to what the guy on TV is saying. Foreclosure. I hate that word. But I want to know more. I need to know more, what happened to other people. The water was too hot. She turned it off. No point in ruining my hands. The experience ruined me years ago. An elderly woman’s voice was telling the reporter how she had to stay at a shelter after she was evicted from her home. Suddenly I had no money, no savings. I had nothing. The dishwasher let it out. Tears ran down her cheeks. No! No! She couldn’t stop crying. Damn it! That’s also my story.