J's Story
Collected by Kiran Singh Sirah
I come from a patchwork family; my mother died when I was seven so I went to live with my grandmother. The only thing she ever wanted for me was to go to college. Two weeks after I started college, she died. You hear the news stories of how close many of us are to homelessness and I never thought that I would end up in that position. I came to the shelter the day after Labor Day in two thousand and eight and I stayed here for two years. That was a very difficult part of life and these people helped me get through it. Now I come back to volunteer. I wish I had the finances to contribute. But all I have is time, so I give that. One of the things about this place is that you’re given the opportunity to improve your situation. There’s just about everything you need to reconstruct your life, which is a powerful thing when you have nothing. To get that assistance is priceless.
One of the things about homelessness is that there are no written directions to how your progress should be. Sometimes it’s about negotiating your way in order to find a way out. People here don’t just ask who you are, or where you’ve been. Instead they ask you about the things that you need to help you to reconstruct your life. When I was living here I found myself to be a far different person than what I had grown up to be. It doesn’t matter where you come from or how well behaved you have been in your life. This is a different experience to deal with. At first I found myself more difficult to connect with. I had become withdrawn. For me the most difficult situation was to offer my friendship to anyone, much less, accept other people’s friendship. It takes longer to make a trusting connection, but overtime, I’ve made some really good friends here. I can now speak for what was one of the bleakest experiences I can think off. I am now finally developing the ability talk about it. With homeless people every story is different. It’s quite a revelation to have nothing and that’s the story that I would like everyone to come to know and to give proper acknowledgement to.
Shelter Stories
by Kiran Singh Sirah
A poem written to be performed
If shelters could speak,
What stories they’d tell
Some stories speak softly
Others stories do yell
His story, our story, stories untold
Speaking, spoken, stories unfold
Words of survival,
Carve out in bold,
Words more precious
Shinier than silver,
Richer than gold
Judgment may
Sometime lie
Talking sidewalks
A questioning of why
A poetic script,
Poem, performance, slam
Shelter kitchen,
Serving
Pork, beef, ham
Beans, Bread, lamb
Corn, Jelly, spam
A mosaic of stories
Scribing moments with hand.
Narratives rippling conversations
Like waves into sand.
Senses take note
Men joke
In circles of smoke
Losing dimes and dollars,
In strokes of bad luck,
Bread butter knife
Blandest
Bleakest
Experiences of life
Trickles of tears,
While do others continue to embellish their fears?
Listening to the beats from a homeless drum
If shelters could speak, what stories they’d tell
Some stories speak softly
Whilst others stories might yell
Collected by Kiran Singh Sirah
I come from a patchwork family; my mother died when I was seven so I went to live with my grandmother. The only thing she ever wanted for me was to go to college. Two weeks after I started college, she died. You hear the news stories of how close many of us are to homelessness and I never thought that I would end up in that position. I came to the shelter the day after Labor Day in two thousand and eight and I stayed here for two years. That was a very difficult part of life and these people helped me get through it. Now I come back to volunteer. I wish I had the finances to contribute. But all I have is time, so I give that. One of the things about this place is that you’re given the opportunity to improve your situation. There’s just about everything you need to reconstruct your life, which is a powerful thing when you have nothing. To get that assistance is priceless.
One of the things about homelessness is that there are no written directions to how your progress should be. Sometimes it’s about negotiating your way in order to find a way out. People here don’t just ask who you are, or where you’ve been. Instead they ask you about the things that you need to help you to reconstruct your life. When I was living here I found myself to be a far different person than what I had grown up to be. It doesn’t matter where you come from or how well behaved you have been in your life. This is a different experience to deal with. At first I found myself more difficult to connect with. I had become withdrawn. For me the most difficult situation was to offer my friendship to anyone, much less, accept other people’s friendship. It takes longer to make a trusting connection, but overtime, I’ve made some really good friends here. I can now speak for what was one of the bleakest experiences I can think off. I am now finally developing the ability talk about it. With homeless people every story is different. It’s quite a revelation to have nothing and that’s the story that I would like everyone to come to know and to give proper acknowledgement to.
Shelter Stories
by Kiran Singh Sirah
A poem written to be performed
If shelters could speak,
What stories they’d tell
Some stories speak softly
Others stories do yell
His story, our story, stories untold
Speaking, spoken, stories unfold
Words of survival,
Carve out in bold,
Words more precious
Shinier than silver,
Richer than gold
Judgment may
Sometime lie
Talking sidewalks
A questioning of why
A poetic script,
Poem, performance, slam
Shelter kitchen,
Serving
Pork, beef, ham
Beans, Bread, lamb
Corn, Jelly, spam
A mosaic of stories
Scribing moments with hand.
Narratives rippling conversations
Like waves into sand.
Senses take note
Men joke
In circles of smoke
Losing dimes and dollars,
In strokes of bad luck,
Bread butter knife
Blandest
Bleakest
Experiences of life
Trickles of tears,
While do others continue to embellish their fears?
Listening to the beats from a homeless drum
If shelters could speak, what stories they’d tell
Some stories speak softly
Whilst others stories might yell