Black was the night as the rain fell into the streets of the lost. In tiny groups, the misfits of society made their way in the direction of "The Mission Bell." Cold and hungry, they each vied for some hot soup and a place to sleep that was dry. "Hard-core Homeless" I heard the lady at the door say, as she barked out commands for them to form a single line. With the precision of well trained troops, the drunks and the addicts jumped through her haughty hoop. "Like the animals they are" I again heard her say as she grimaced and scowled, "This way, This way, snap it up, we do not have all day. Again, obedient to this tyrants tune, they shuffled quietly into the next room. I again overheard her say, " Off with those stinking rags and into the showers in the next room if you want to stay" Docile as children, they removed all their clothes and stood naked before her, and the world as she made notes on a small brown book. Each man carried that lost and lonely look, while they observed the lady of "The Mission Bell" stare at their nakedness, shake her head and write some more in her book. Humiliated they must be, thought I, why stave off the cold? Why not just die? Without warning, she saw me standing there, looked me once over and motioned me to a chair. After dispatching the men on their way, she walked with coldness over my way. "You are new to this I see," come on, stand up when in my presence you be" You are just like the rest, you are just newer at this, now confess."
I stood in silence as she held her ground, I thought of the men that had just walked away, with the shame of the world being their only garment. I coughed a little, I thought of the rain, I considered dying.....I realized my pain. Dropping my head, I leaned over to untie my shoes.........

 J. Allen Wilson © 2002