ODE TO BEAU
I sit and smell, taste and listen to these bricks and benches and their stories of glory and triumph, of death and despair. The homeless and addicted, the hopeless, those who hunger for freedom from themselves, from pain, from death. In the gentle breeze, I hear the stories of Jeff, Thomas and Jim who were bright, witty, and kind. Of Daniel, Oscar, and Jerry: happy to be alive. So are Yukito, Emil and Zahra, Frank, Joe, and James.
Then, there is Beau – bookmarked with crosses; alone, yet surrounded by Steven, Ken, and Jane. Brother James to his left, Olga to his right – is Beau still remembered? How did he lose his fight? Was it a needle, a bottle, a pill? How did he get his thrill? Or was it just a snort that cut his life so short?
Was he a unique force – a tireless advocate for the hopeless? Was he a father, a son, a brother? What about his mother – does she cry alone? I pray that God gave courage, serenity, and hope. Did he hear God calling? Walking on these trails of this Holy Mountain, or was it just the wails of those men so hungry, angry, tired, and lonely?
I believe Beau was compassionate, generous, a devoted servant to his friends, a patriot, a leader, true blue to the end. To those who have passed through to those here now, and those yet to come, say a prayer for Beau and remember there is hope.
~ Gregory G.
