Shelter and Surrounding Area

There were several different spaces and many seemed to bypass them though some could not. The shelter where I worked and was well received for instance that the police and even other emergency services shunned and judged. It was in the outside of a town up a hill, in fact many of the workers colloquially regarded it as ‘The Hill,’ and definitely wasn’t in anyone’s ’backyard,’ but alone, solitary, surrounded by a dangerous highway with poor access and also a strange forest where the coyotes called out from at nocturnal hours, their sounds echoing like a wilderness dream through the air. Many souls going to and from through the doors and I tried to help them all, yes, always tried my best anyhow.

Roads to Woodlands

The new drivers from the urban sprawl just went when a stop sign was stopped at briefly or a light turned green. They had driving knowledge but lacked wisdom. I noticed right away that the old-timers and natives nearly always took an extra look for wayward vehicles or deer or weather in lieu of things not always being what they seemed. And what of it all? Well, mostly the lonesome ways, often grey and dull but at least far away from the noise and light pollution plus regular pollution of the cities, the cities that encountered and encroached on the old otherwise calm and peaceful towns of the north. The world was changing and fast. Construction signs and vehicles getting closer. Clear cutting. Progress they called it sometimes. With that came rudeness and misunderstandings. 

The Carnival 

Near the guts of the city and by the water, not far off from the lake, was the summer carnival. A bit of hope still, for I used to go there as a child and a teenager, and I suppose nearly always. Electric light. The whirl and whoosh sounds of rides. Carnival barkers and their games. Content, interested and interesting people if not completely happy. Individuality permitted. Vintage fashion. Street wear. Music. Colours and lights. Watch then as the walk through the midway is taken, the sun going down and then having gone down. Humanity and good weather, brief moments of fun and remembering. 

Brian Michael Barbeito is a Canadian poet and photographer. His most recent work is the book of prose poems and photographs called The Book of Love and Mourning.