Street Talk

The girl with mud thick eyes? I met her across from where we were 3 floors above, she walked that place like a tigress, she stalked my face every noon as I waited for the school bus. Our daughter was 5, I wanted to shield her from the girls’ eyes, eyes like a well with no spring, just dank dark mud falling in, the street girl I always call her even after all these years, she follows me lane after lane, after we shifted cities and states, staring at me like I must know a piece of her life, know what it feels like not to have a ‘legal life’, not have a housekey and address.

Digi Art, RN

Why think of her now, it is years and years gone, she must be so much older, does she still wear mascara all down the sides of her eyes and gaudy pink lipstick smeared as if with hatred. The last time I saw her she spat at the ground around a dwarf tree bursting with a reddish flower I dont know its name: she was angry and swollen in her jaw. My daughter got off the school bus and ran into me crying about a bruise she got at play. I gathered little Dia in my arms, the girl leaned on the tree, her eyes not leaving us. Today was different, her stare volatile, as if all this was my fault.

I turned away, my little one’s bag in other arm.

The street girl’s stare bored into my back. I didn’t want to, I shouldn’t have, but I turned around and she was there, not smiling, just looking on with a sadness now, and I’ve no name for that kind of sadness.

Today, I wonder where that girl is; she and our millions, in streets and homes not necessarily kind. Poverty is more than lack of money, it is an entire lack of security. We all must go thru’ this Corona crisis, and I cannot imagine doing that without some kind of security, even if the end is near for some of us. We are worried sick and sad and afraid and alone in more ways than I can know to say, but soul aloneness, abuse.… how do you cope with that? If I could write a letter, pack a meal, anything possible to actually do…. that be great. What I cannot stomach is Humans like that Street Girl with no place like a home, not even in her living memory, no sense of self respect, just abuse and naked eye-hunger. … I cannot come to terms with Us having to live like that.

Physical hunger, death, illness, loneliness. visits us some way or the other. But there are people in our streets, in dwellings between our streets, within closed doors maybe, nice quilt and food or not,

our Streets wear/ bear the feet of the most abused Decade of all. This season, as we approach Good Friday & Easter, I pray that in the throes of ‘Rona and all its lethal activity, we will search the routes between us all, for Hungry Eyes.

What can we do? I do not know. We are at our creative best when we are hurting:

if I met my Street girl now, what’d I do? Maybe I’d…..uh… unsure. I’d think hard, discuss with a trusted other what could be done to reach out across the chasm between strata of society, across taboo and fear. I didnot even look at her because I was afraid. I’m as afraid to cross streets, even my quieter street here where we live, am terrified of traffic. Lived here all my life and yes, I am. Can’t cross the street. But our streets are certified insane, some of them. Ours have Wheelies, dizzy fourwheelers, fearless Scooterists also doing wheelies….now it’s all empty, so quiet you don’t hear a honk.

In the silence of This, I’m asking for ways to reach out to humans, yeah yeah Social Distancing et al.

Often a smile would be almost enough, oh even with our eyes, now that we have masks. Our 19year son is blind and can smile with his entire being when he wants to. I’m still learning how to do that,

learning to want to pray with all my being for all of us everywhere to taste the love of God that transcends all borders, true Love that can transfigure (ah ‘Traject!’ word Post Covid), us into dimensions we never knew we had just for having Him as Support. It can make us do things for each other we’d never have stopped to do. Even the heart to pray for people right across our lane.

I believe that more than ever before, this season. The power of prayer to heal the human spirit in our homes, in our streets.

Stay precious, stay blest,



18 thoughts on “Street Talk

  1. This is the quandary that all Christians face. We fear and we waffle and then we agonize over what should be simple. In these times of distrust, even a kind action can be misinterpreted. I once offered a man an orange since he was obviously hungry and thirsty. He refused it and berated me for even thinking he would accept a “pity” offering to soothe my conscience. That had not crossed my mind so it isn’t always possible to be generous to those who have never known true generosity…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. How different we are from Gods love, scares me even more. Yes I so get what you’re saying, though am praying these days, more for us all, as we enter a new phase of lack. That we will not grow cold, and too alone to be reached ourselves.


  2. You made her come alive in front of our eyes and there she will remain, a reminder of all we overlook without a second thought.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Eyes are the window to our souls. I can sense your apprehension about the Street Girl. I deal with a lot of street girls, they do have stories to tell. Given the chance, they are humans just like us wanting to connect.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’ve seen those eyes. They haunt me. Even a smile is like walking into a thorny thicket and into into the woods to see how far a way is parted. Sometimes, a cracked open door big enough for a cookie to pass through is discovered (ya, there’s a story but not for here).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sigh, makes you wonder how many worlds are these we are all living in; how many walls and chunks, how many thorns, how many ? Ah yes, stories we cannot even begin to imagine, all right here, and we maynt even know.


  5. The neighbours still come out on our street keeping to physical distancing from each other. Families continually pass our front door on their daily walks. It’s nice to see all the activity. We live in a small university town so do not see any street people. My heart goes out to them.

    Liked by 1 person

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