Harm Reduction

Harm Reduction

A street performer I passed a thousand times

His red guitar, accented by sparkling grey-green eyes

Always he had a smile and nod for me

But for most of his years he wasn’t free

This man I knew as Jerry wasn’t tall or short

His face just another one among the city centre tumult

If you stopped to talk and shared a word or two

You could see the pain he tried to hide from you

He was paranoid, afraid of what others feel are tiny things,

A bed bug, a spider, a horn, a child who screams.

Jerry was forever looking ahead and above for any danger

From the biting cold or an unknown desperate stranger

No one understood why he went to bars at all

He would sit with his cheap draft, back to the wall

I knew with his thick arms he would never hurt another soul

Though hurting those who cared for him seemed his goal

He lacked possessions but his guitar, slept outside

And his age was a secret he held with pride

He looked fifty at least, but was really thirty-five

Though it seemed to him a hundred times

He had lived his life, been reborn and died

Once in November, he was on my mind a lot

As the cold of winter began an early onslaught

All too many homeless people would lose limbs or die

I had to help him in some way that poor lonely guy

I found him, but somehow his situation lost its charm

When I saw him guide a hypodermic needle into his arm

When he pushed the solution into his vein

I could tell at once he felt no more pain

It seemed for a few short moments, gone was the past

But with the memories that made him sick it didn’t last

I stood and watched him, as he overdosed

His saliva coming out his mouth and nose

He went into a seizure,

I had no idea what to do or who to blame

I screamed and ran for help, but no one came

So, my friend with the twinkle in his eyes

Because of society’s daily ignorance met his demise

I went to his family, and was allowed

To plan his service, and I soon found

He had struggled many things since his early years

As I read and talked about him I cried real tears

There had been so much abuse done to him

I no longer saw his death as an unforgiveable sin

If there had only been some possible way

To help, to care, to shelter, feed, and pray

I might have felt so much more of a victory

And I could go on seeing my friend smile at me

END