I’m was in Portland, Oregon at the first annual Stafford Challenge Poetry Conference, and I’m not sure how one can feel exhilarated and exhausted at the same time, but I did. The days of writing held such magic here in the Pacific Northwest. From Powell’s City of Books to Lewis and Clark College to the Willamette River and the 30th floor of the Portland City Grill, I’ve breathed the air of artists everywhere.
This is a city of literature, visual art, music and dance. Have you ever been immersed in a city so filled with the unexpected?
But one humanitarian challenge is the homeless population here. All these years I’ve walked past, minded my business, tried not to look. But something has tugged at my heartstrings on this trip, and I’m rethinking my stance. Something must change.
Outside the Zone in Portland, Oregon
oh my ~ he was there/ on the street / outside Powell’s City of Books in Portland /this young man/
locking his white-blue eyes with mine/ pleading / Excuse me, Ma’am? / as I walked past/
outside the zone/a few blocks later it smacked my heart wide open/ this is someone’s child/ a mother’s baby boy/ and I? I have neglected this soul / a disco ball of fragmented pieces/ reflection’ll do that/
refracting in pieces that scatter and haunt my being as I walk on/ ripped apart / outside the zone/ wanting even now to return to hear his story/ a sermon of life there on the street/ giving more than he requests/ listen: he has a story/ we all have a story/
this poem knows regret can do a 180/ change a line like an edit/ a tide of change/ one small act of knowing someone/ asking their story/ seeing, listening, validating humanity/ on a concrete city sidewalk/ where someone needs a human outside the zone/ to enter the zone and see them, hear them, understand them
Common Threads 
Kim, I just finished reading Breaking Night: A Memoir of Forgiveness, Survival, and My Journey from Homeless to Harvard by Liz Murray. The details of her life that she shared were heartbreaking. It was written with complete transparency and honesty, holding nothing back about the road that led her to homelessness, and the journey there and through it opened my eyes in a way that I will never forget. As your poem so beautifully said…there is a story. If we can just remember that, maybe we could be part of the change for someone. Maybe we could be their Theo (of course, referencing one of our favorite books), and in Liz’s case, maybe we could be their Paige or their Perry. Although many who are homeless decide, for whatever reason, to remain so, who knows how many want to break free and only need a kind word, someone to listen, and someone to encourage them to believe in themselves. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
LikeLike