~
Under Construction~
The
Building of Cardboard Homes
Cardboard
Dreams...
Cardboard
Lives: Constructing Indomitable Spirits
Ever
wonder how it comes about the abundant homes that are made
out of
cardboard....
The
Building of Cardboard Homes (Our Lives)-- makeshift lives,
living on
the streets. Days flow into weeks, which turn into months and
transform into years.... time no longer holds any meaning when you
are
on the streets. Days blend and blur, becoming one long day.
Have
you ever wondered where and how people began living in
Cardboard
homes?? Or did you just make a snap judgment about it, claiming
they
are 'junkies, alcoholics, low-life's...Just lazy and so forth? Most
people,
contrary to popular belief, did not choose to be homeless and most are not out
here due to chemical dependency, otherwise the
streets would be overflowing
with Doctors prescribing their own addictions. Homeless living is
with Doctors prescribing their own addictions. Homeless living is
highly stressful, soul-grinding
existence... lazy need not apply!!
As
this is not for the weak or feint of heart.
You
ever wonder about the lives inside-- beyond the cardboard??
Do you
ever see the person before you, or do you automatically
discard us as mere trash along the way? Perhaps pass
judgment for something you know nothing about, assuming you know
judgment for something you know nothing about, assuming you know
exactly "why”
we are out here.--Living
takes on a whole other meaning
when you are looking up to the heavens when you awaken... peering through
the holes, the spaces from where
the cardboard that you have placed
around you shifts with your every
move. The soft folds of night that
held everything in shadow as it
slips and fades from the first shafts of
morning light begins to take
over. Peeling and picking the residue and
layers of Mother nature off
that has settled through the night,
the sediments from the night that leave and has left their marks...
the sediments from the night that leave and has left their marks...
insects, rocks, grassy bits, twigs
and leaves, among the masses.....
before moving into your day. All
these things in various stages of
embedment through your body, and found in the oddest of places.
You learn the true meaning of isolation and being non-existent when you are
forced to live your life on the streets, even when surrounded by
people,
you find you’re not welcome and made to feel like you have
never mattered…
People pretending to be your friend, then turn
their backs on you, making it
crystal clear your presence isn’t
there… you simply cease to exist, in their eyes--
in their
consciousness. Without ever telling you what happened. Butchering
your heart in the process because you cared, loved and trusted them
with your
heart and felt it in your entire being. People forget you
are a real person---
a living, breathing, feeling being just like
them. But they do not
treat you as a person, rather something to be discarded and avoided like a
treat you as a person, rather something to be discarded and avoided like a
toxic substance they “need” to steer
clear of. It doesn't diminish the pain and deep
sadness left in its
wake, that permeates your heart and touches the core of your being.
And
when you are on the streets, people insist you have so many places to
go, so
much shelter and so many places to get out of the rain and so
forth, and they
refuse to believe otherwise. When you are on foot,
have little or no access to bus service,
which is all but
non-existent on the weekends-- you’re left out in the cold in the
truest sense.
Your choices are extremely limited. If the library is
open, you can go in there for a
brief time, then when they close,
you’re left out again, and trying to find
another place out of the brutal weather becomes more challenging. Finding some
another place out of the brutal weather becomes more challenging. Finding some
place where no purchases are required in order to sit in there for any length of
time,
such as Kinko’s or Safeway-- and they are not always an
option, not when
you are no where near them. But people insist, “oh,
Renee, you have to
have some place you go-- I know you are not
outside 24/7-- OK, come out with me then.
outside 24/7-- OK, come out with me then.
Falling
through the cracks…
Slipped
trough and fallen through and into all the crevices and cracks of
this screwed up “system”, the chasms deepening and widening with
each endless
attempt trying to receive what I am fully entitled
to, yet refused and denied
with increasing cruelty and the
nightmarish hell the system drags you through…
when you are
physically challenged, female and homeless… literally forced
to live on the brutal streets, no income-- you are slammed head first repeatedly into
to live on the brutal streets, no income-- you are slammed head first repeatedly into
the walls, then dragged over hot coals. Your health,
your very life compromised,
discarded, dismissed as the hours roll
into days, flowing into weeks, changing
into months, turning into
years, morphing together where time has become
suspended, no longer
holding or holds any meaning.
Your life… a void in the chasm.
When
you are not chemically dependent, don’t have a habit to ‘support’,
a convict or a felon, or an illegal immigrant, you are denied your
very existence.
The very ‘rights’ we’re supposed to be
guaranteed, food, clothing, shelter…
readily dismissed. And the
battle begins. Refused housing because there is no income,
denied
sustenance because you don’t have a “physical” residence. The
catch-22 that
loops continuously, the cycle that has no end. When you
are a single individual, female,
and clean-- there is no category for
you--- ‘well, you don’t drink, you don’t smoke,
you don’t do drugs… you look too clean, so you cannot possibly need assistance.
you don’t do drugs… you look too clean, so you cannot possibly need assistance.
You don’t “look the part, or smell the part… don’t look like
you are homeless, so
obviously you don’t need help. We only help
people who ‘do’. Even the so-called ‘programs’
are only
designed for chemical dependents, families with dependent children
and seniors.
Fallen through the crack, time and again.
Renee
Bowen
Homeless
since Sept. 1, 2000
© 2011
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