Every few weeks, a man on the street above us screams obsenities and rages so loudly that we hear in our houses no matter what is going on. We've called the police, and they are familiar with him, and, as most police have to do these days, they talk him down, get him to a 72 hour hold or to jail. What a tragedy. Lack of mental health services is a shame upon our nation. Should we have the right to hold them? Should they have the right to refuse? It's complicated territory.
But his voice, his absolute rage, is emblematic of powerlessness. He can't control his demons, he doesn't deserve to suffer in this way. Is he afraid of the danger he might be to others? Can his speech or anyone's express such agony?
I pray for him. I pray he gets the help he needs. I pray we get more shelters, half way houses, therapies, and medications that truly help a person live a dignified life. Compromised perhaps, not what it might have been had the person not been struck down with this illness, but not alone, not so entirely alone that the only people who speak to him wear uniforms. I pray for those uniformed people as well, that they find the gift of speech that will soothe and sort out what the problem is and how best to address it. And I pray the rest of us listen, not leaving these people's care to the risk of others, but problem solve ourselves to get these people help and a life where they can be around people and not be so isolated. It's our responsibility, as surely as it is to make every effort to feed those hungry, house those without shelter and develop the structures so no one is marginalized, but acknowledged as our responsibility in a country which can well afford to help, and strangely chooses not to. Let's not be that country any more.
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