A homeless camp in Helena, Montana was razed on Thursday, January 4th, 2024. One week later, temperatures drop to -34°F.
Fallen Leaves
Tarps, blankets,
jackets and tents
How many of us know what it means
to own only what we can carry?
How many of us know what
it’s like to have those few backpack
and armloads
taken
and thrown away?
I stepped past piles of shattered glass
downtown storefront windows
reduced to shards
the day after the raid.
The homeless are fallen leaves
we have purchased leaf blowers
to blow them into our neighbors’ yards
hoping, against all that the past has shown us,
that they will not blow back.
If we cannot talk about words like
responsibility
cruelty
culpability
consequences
maybe we can talk about
money?
How much have we invested in
futility?
How much have we been pouring
into making bigger
and more expensive
problems?
But even the talk of money
is stunted by our pervasive ideals
How many of us have minds
too small and scared,
too inhabited by stories we’ve been told,
to allow for a new story about
spending our collective money
on viable solutions?
The people most concerned about
taxes
aren’t paying them anyway.
I know people below the poverty line
who pay 7% taxes
living alongside the wealthy
many of whom pay none.
It’s not the money, then,
but the stories we’ve adopted.
Even the suggestion of aid
is an attack
—somehow--
on our ideas about Freedom.
Nevermind the costs of emergency services
imprisonment,
police and city actions,
vacant storefronts
empty streets
There is another group,
unburdened by rugged ideals, one
willing to talk about money,
even willing to spend their own
as long as they will not be inconvenienced
they write their checks so they don’t
have to see
smell
or hear
They spend their money to make
the problem disappear,
“Here, fix it—just not in my backyard.”
If not in our backyards
—then Where?
One week after the the raid
I stepped outside and squinted
to read the mercury in the dim
morning light:
-34°F
Tarps, blankets,
jackets and tents
the bare minimum needed to survive
gone,
taken,
forcibly removed.
A problematic life reduced to
frozen matter
is a far more simple matter.
A quiet disposal
and one last
one-time fee.
Tarps, blankets,
jackets and tents
How many of us know what it means
to own only what we can carry?
How many of us know what
it’s like to have those few backpack
and armloads
taken
and thrown away?
I stepped past piles of shattered glass
downtown storefront windows
reduced to shards
the day after the raid.
The homeless are fallen leaves
we have purchased leaf blowers
to blow them into our neighbors’ yards
hoping, against all that the past has shown us,
that they will not blow back.
If we cannot talk about words like
responsibility
cruelty
culpability
consequences
maybe we can talk about
money?
How much have we invested in
futility?
How much have we been pouring
into making bigger
and more expensive
problems?
But even the talk of money
is stunted by our pervasive ideals
How many of us have minds
too small and scared,
too inhabited by stories we’ve been told,
to allow for a new story about
spending our collective money
on viable solutions?
The people most concerned about
taxes
aren’t paying them anyway.
I know people below the poverty line
who pay 7% taxes
living alongside the wealthy
many of whom pay none.
It’s not the money, then,
but the stories we’ve adopted.
Even the suggestion of aid
is an attack
—somehow--
on our ideas about Freedom.
Nevermind the costs of emergency services
imprisonment,
police and city actions,
vacant storefronts
empty streets
There is another group,
unburdened by rugged ideals, one
willing to talk about money,
even willing to spend their own
as long as they will not be inconvenienced
they write their checks so they don’t
have to see
smell
or hear
They spend their money to make
the problem disappear,
“Here, fix it—just not in my backyard.”
If not in our backyards
—then Where?
One week after the the raid
I stepped outside and squinted
to read the mercury in the dim
morning light:
-34°F
Tarps, blankets,
jackets and tents
the bare minimum needed to survive
gone,
taken,
forcibly removed.
A problematic life reduced to
frozen matter
is a far more simple matter.
A quiet disposal
and one last
one-time fee.
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