If Despair had a face

Beyond the Broken // By R.G. Ryan

“Every wound leaves a scar, and every scar tells a story.”

———-

Mid-Friday morning and I was driving through the Midway District of San Diego on my way home after a trip to the local carwash. While waiting out a traffic light, I saw a young woman standing on the corner opposite me. Early twenties and quite obviously homeless, she stood there, head grasped in both hands, her countenance contorted into what I can only describe as possibly the most agonized and hopeless expression I have ever seen.

In fact, if despair had a face it would belong to this young woman.

Eyes darting this way and that as if looking for help of any kind from any direction, her mouth was open, and I'm certain that had I been closer I would have heard her cries.

The light changed, and because of insanely heavy traffic I had no choice but to drive on. But her face has stayed with me. I see it every time I pass that intersection.

Despair stalks these streets the way predators stalk the jungles. The margins of our world are filled with faces that are filled with despair. If we don't see them who will? If we don't bend down, extend a hand, and lift them out of their misery, who will?

I keep watching for her at our Tuesday dinner parties. I want to shake her hand, maybe give her a hug, and tell her that someone cares. What joy it would be to see her despair turned to hope…to see what happens when misery meets mercy.

Despair DOES have a face. But, so does love. It’s called, We See You San Diego.