Hope for the hopeless

Moldy and warped, what was once a majestic oak now only rotten wood, a palace for termites and a plethora of creatures that feed on the decomposing organic matter. All alone it stands on the edge of the cracked pavement of the jiffy lube parking lot, looking as forlorn and forgotten as the homeless man sitting on the stoop of the church across the street. The rain drips off what is left of its curving branches, tears for those other days of showy greenery when those others would take shelter from the hot sun under the leafy tent of its branches. Now, because of this rot, no new leaves will come. Now, the only ones to take shelter under its languishing branches are the teenage druggies that lean up against the slime of its trunk piercing the translucent skin of their forearms and injecting the poisonous venom of meth and heroine. As they lift up the sleeves of their clothing to find a place to inject, they expose all the discolored places where the bite of the needle has been before. Young, most of these enslaved beings, pale, sickly, like wilted flowers, are not more than seventeen. So they cower together, the decaying tree and the three junkies alike in their degradation bound by blight and repulsive disease like lepers. The junkies in their obsession with the degenerating chemical have nowhere else to seek shelter.
         The red and white jiffy lube sign flickers out leaving no other light, but the light that shines in a multicolored haze from the stained glass windows of the church pooling gracefully on the pavement. The bum on the steps ignores the teens who stare transfixedly up at these lights, as captivated as sailors gazing longingly at the beam from the lighthouse leading them back to shore after many long months at sea. These spellbound creatures wonder: will they come again? Will they speak? Were they simply another toxin induced hallucination or were they flesh and blood beings?  They question why any of those other ones, the ones they left behind with their own lives, would approach them, the wretched ones, the hopeless and untouchable. Yet they were certain they had seen them, heard them, and maybe even have responded back and made real conversation like in the old days, the days before the shackles that came disguised as a good time.
         Thus they sit, lying in wait for the discovery. If they were not mere figments they would come again, or so the teens all silently agree. The rain drops begin to trickle through their greasy hair and across their pallid skin like ice, yet they sit still as statues gazing ever across the street at the luminous building. As though on some sort of predetermined queue, the homeless man removes himself from the concrete steps and makes his way gingerly to a bench further down the block where he continues to ignore the junkies presence. Not more than five minutes later the doors swing open and out they come in a swarm of bodies, warm light from inside pouring into the darkness of the weathered street. Out they come with shining smiles exuding normality from every pore. Their polite chatter breaks the silence of the night and for a moment fills the drab street with human contentment. Slowly the crowd disperses, gently regaining their distance from the three youths under the dead oak. They just melt away in their various directions, and return to their various homes and lives, never giving a thought to the three shadows beneath the tree. Four solitary figures remain on the steps. They, like those gaunt ones across the street, are young. Yes, thought those waiting under the boughs, these are the ones, but will they come? The teens make their way across the pavement determinedly without hesitation towards the wraith like figures on the other side. Their bodies radiant with health and their minds bright with lucidity moving towards the peaked figures of the druggies with their minds clogged by opaque haze as though bridging a gap between two worlds. As the invisible wall separating these two worlds was tumbled down and they came face to face, the druggies marveled at the reality of this meeting. It seemed that the world was on edge and listening. Someone’s lips parted “Hey guys what’s up?” and the silence was broken.