Fuc7 You


The painting above was given to me by an 18 year old in the Haight, it is the way he views the system as being hostile to people who are different.

Tonight I sat in a the US 101 Bar on Van Ness, and had a memorial service for Michael, 39, whom I have known since he was 19. He was found slumped over dead in a bus stop. Michael has been homeless for as long as I have known him. He hustled, and used drugs, and as he became older struggled with aging, seeing his life get narrower, and not being the “cute boy” he once was.

I sat up a meeting for next week with a social worker to talk to a 78 year old woman, who has lived on Polk for 40 years, she would sweep the street to give back to the neighborhood. She had a stroke, laid on her apartment floor for 9 days, and will not be able to return to her apartment. I have to work with them on helping her let go of coming home. It will be a rough day, and a rough time for Opal.

A mother brought her 12 year old son to see me today. They are homeless, and he needs some shoes, so I am buying him shoes.  And so it goes.  I too, like my friend, am  angry with the system.  But ultimately, I have to put that anger aside, for it will consume one, and simply remember these words:

“in the new light

of each day’s questions,

I am never prepared.

Today, again, I have nothing

to offer but a handful

of old prayers, worn down

by the relentless abrasion

of doubt, and a fragment

of dream that plays on in my head

only half remembered. Still,

the doves coo and circle

through the pines

as they do when I pass

each morning. Their sorrow

is so nearly human, it rings

sweet with regret. By dusk,

the trees will bow down, and I too, will

make my appeal, will find

again your mercy,

your solace.” Elizabeth Drescher

Fr. River Damien Sims, D.Min. D.S.T.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164




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