Brotherly Love

I always viewed my younger brother, Jeremiah, as a child, even as he grew into adulthood. Now that he is no longer here, I’ve been reflecting on his life. I’ve been reflecting on his choices that led him to a life of homelessness and addictions. Everything I know about Jeremiah is only what was there on the surface.

I will never know the extent of his addictions and the demons he tried to silence. I don’t know how he survived on the streets for so many years. What did you do my baby brother? Who were you? My time of reflection offers little solace to the questions that plague my mind. I see you everywhere. You are the homeless man I saw asleep outside 7-Eleven. You are there as we pass under bridges or driving passed homeless camps.

Homelessness doesn’t make me angry; it saddens me deeply. Every person I see is no longer just another homeless man or woman. They are my brother. The love for these strangers, is genuine and goes deeper than I can fully understand.

I’ve always had a heart for the homeless because of the way Jeremiah lived. Hosting coat drives and passing out goods to those in need was something … or … the only thing I felt I could do, to somehow help my brother. But it’s different since my brothers passing, my heart for the homeless goes beyond my love for Jeremiah. My heart aches for their families. These men and women are somebody’s son, somebody’s daughter, a brother or sister. Somebody has cried for them, and begged them to change, somebody has tried to help them with their addictions. They each have a story.

When I hear snide remarks towards the homeless, I can’t help but feel offended. That is not how we are meant to be as a people, is it? Angry at those who have nothing. Judging them for having nothing. Assuming you know their story. Giving them each a story of laziness.

Jeremiah wasn’t a saint, his decisions in life led him down a dark path. He suffered from mental disabilities and illness. Sprinkle that with addiction and it was a recipe for certain disaster. He did have moments of sobriety and jail time that forced him into sobriety. But in the end his addictions would come calling like the wind in the night.

Jeremiah, even with his addictions had a essence of innocence and I guess at times ignorance. He genuinely always just wanted to be loved and accepted.

If you are reading this, I only ask that you take a moment to search your heart — to love your brother or sister no matter how they are living or how they look. They are someone and they need your love. Even just a simple smile or kind word.

You were put in their path for a reason. Please don’t let that moment pass you by.

BEHOLD A MISJUDGED LIFE

Behold a misjudged life,

Biased personality through a vigilant eye.

Unsettled annoyance naturally identified.

Frequently exasperated and effortlessly cried.

Behold a misjudged life,

Diverse meanings so easily transposed.

Agonizing thorns from a seemingly harmless rose.

He seeks liberations to ease the mind,

But his joys turned to poisons that made him blind.

Behold a misjudged life,

Trembling soiled hands begging for grace.

Hollowed desperate eyes reveal his tortured face.

The howling wind wraps around him, like a sad embrace.

Behold a misjudged life,

His shelter built on pain and tears.

Voices pray on that troubled soul, and strike at hidden fears.

Do you see your brother?

Do you see a son?

The image in your sights, yields such little love.

Behold a misjudged life,

With the break of day that troubled road came to an end.

As swiftly as his pain was gone, our heartache soon begins.

The wind rustles through the trees, whispering gently to me.

Discover magnificence in laughter as well as in sorrow,

As there are no guarantees we’ll uncover tomorrow.