street retreat reflections

Here are some of the reflections I wrote on the 7-day street retreat in San Francisco last week. There were 12 of us on the streets together and we had reflection sessions twice a day. The first piece is from a reflection session where we all drew a strip of paper. We had each written a question, thought or comment on one strip of paper at the previous reflection session.

The strip of paper I drew read:
"The dome of the City's Hall makes the grass grow faster."

I wrote in response:
The grass grows faster than the breakfast line at Glide, if you think it opens at 7 instead of 8.

The grass grows faster than my tired feet take me back once again, more and more reluctantly, to A Woman's Place.

The grass grows faster with a little sun and a little rain.

The dome of city hall is golden like the gentle light of an oatmeal morning, quiet streets, solumn red brick, cold cement-chilled sunlight, perfect for a delicious nap in the sun.

City Hall a jewel of gold and poured concrete.

Adelfa a smiling jewel of foggy blue eyes, swollen ankles and tidy shoes and clothes.

Westfield Center bathrooms a jewel of long late hours and precious paper towels.

Glittering pink jewels sparkling on the sidwalk near Abraham Lincoln.

St. Boniface a jewel of a church for its open doors, clean pews, vaulted ceilings and stained glass.

A jewelled hour of night, when the only sound is gentle breathing, rhythmic snoring, sleeping people.

______________________

And from the last day of the retreat, the final written reflection...

Itchy, dirty, tired. This morning the fog rolled in.

It's nice to finally have my cup of tea. Oh how I love my hot water-- I can't wait to take a hot shower, do laundry, take a nap in bed.

And today I started getting anxious about what next-- I need to start looking for a place to live for next month. Housing, shelter how will I pay for it?

Feel foggy-headed tired. Dry lips, bad posture, partly morning grogginess, partly another night of poor sleep on hard ground. Uncomfortable.

At Glide today a woman told me I looked nice with my hair down for a change. On the way to the Fools Court a man told me he was watching me all morning and was I okay? Okay, I'm okay. But if my days and future ahead of me stretched open without parents, housed friends to lean on-- if I was on the streets, I don't know that I would be okay. I feel desparate.

Weary, exhausted, saddened but okay, because it's over and later today I'll be clean, wearing clean clothes and tonight I'll sleep in a room by myself in a bed with sheets and blankets.