My Guardian Angel

My Guardian Angel1

If you've read my poem entitled Anxiety Medication, than you'll remember the mentioning of me being homeless at one time in my life.  You'll remember that I mentioned a homeless man, that took me in, and explained to me all that my mind was too immature to discover on it's own.  It was a cold January morning when I woke up in a Norfolk, VA alleyway.  I had gone out the night before, and saw the movie 8 mile, starring Eminem.  I often attribute me being alive today to Eminem, but he is not the only one who has saved this life of mine.  I returned to N.O.B. to find that my ship had departed on a 6 month deployment.  I was petrified at what was going to happen to me.  The deployment was not scheduled, and was announced the evening prior, but I was not at a place in where I could be reached.  I thought for sure that I was going to face a very harsh punishment for my irresponsibility, for I had shown to be somewhat of a troublemaker during my 2 years of prior military enlistment.  I decided not to alert the guards at the front gate of my misfortunes, and went to a motel down the road to stay the night.  2

I only had enough money to stay for one night, and found myself alone in the chilling winter air with no place to go.  Now that I've made the mistake of not alerting the authorities of my misfortunes on day 1, I have now made it even less appealing to go back to the base in which I called home.  I went into a hardee's somewhere near downtown Norfolk to escape the freezing temperatures.  I had enough money to buy a cup of coffee.  I had nothing but a couple of dollars, and the clothes on my back.  I was sitting there pondering what my next move would be, when a man introduced himself from across the lobby.  He could tell that I was in a fragile state of mind, and he introduced himself, and we became instant friends.  We talked for about an hour, but I never let him in on the sad story that my life had recently become.3

I walked around town until I found a secluded alley, in which I spent the night behind a dumpster.  I woke up the next morning feeling more down on my life than ever before.  I cried as I considered ending the life that God had given me, for I saw no reason to go on living anymore.  For the second time in less than a few months, suicide had become the only answer.  Without a pen and paper there to relieve the pain inside of me, I resorted to slicing my own wrists with the rough edge of my Military I.D.   I passed out, not from pain, but from the shock that came along with the thought of that being the end.  I don't know how much time had passed, but I was shaken awake by 3 men as the daylight sky slowly turned into night.  One of those men was the man that I had met the day before over a cup of coffee.  I stood up, and glanced down at the dried up lines of blood running down my arm.  One of the men made a comment about the fact that if I really wanted to die, I would have cut vertical rather than horizontal.  As I look down at the lines that still scar my wrist to this day, it reminds me of the man that changed my life, forever.4

The 4 of us walked down the road to the Hardee's restaurant in which I had spent what I thought was my last day on earth.  After about an hour, the other 2 men had gone off to a local area shelter in which they spent most nights.  Raymond Burns III, known to the rest as "The Birdman" stayed their and accompanied me in one of our many revealing conversations.  I laughed and asked the man if his nickname could be attributed to the rapper that goes by the same alias.  He said that he had not heard of this man, and his nickname was given to him because of his belief that he has already flown into the life that he considers heaven.  He comforted me as I told him the story that I told all of you through my poem Anxiety Medication.  He even went as far as to refer to me as son, which was especially surprising being that he was a black man.5

I asked him how he could consider a place such as this "Heaven".  He told me of his past life, and showed me many pictures of the family life he had once known.  He was a college graduate, and lived what is considered by most, the American Dream.  His wife, and children were absolutely beautiful, and they all looked seemingly happy in their average middle class life.  I questioned his credibility at first, until he provided me with the wedding picture, of him and the woman from the pictures.  His wife had cheated on him, and the distress caused him to pretty much disassemble his once perfect life, as a way of self sacrifice seeking pity.  He quit his job, and sold many of his precious belongings.  His wife took the kids, and moved to Washington D.C.  Despite the fact that his wife was the one guilty of adultery, his children were taken away due to his recent sacrifices, and his newly acquired drug addictions.6

He told me that until recently, he had everything that he had dreamed of as an under privileged youth, except for the belief in God.  To this day, I still have my doubts, I must admit, but he opened my eyes to a whole other world of possibilities with the things that he told me.  He said that I remind him of himself after his life had collapsed around him a few years back.  He then revealed to me scars from his very own wrist that were nearly identical to the ones on my arm.  He explained to me that until recently, he had come to know alot, but he never really knew who he was.  He said that people often mock him, and look at him as though he is a lesser man.  He explained to me that he is happier now, than he has ever been.  I found it hard to believe that a man could be happy with such a life, but his content was obvious, and he had become a man that was in a state similar to that of purgatory.  His life was already over, and he was just waiting for the day in which he will finally be delivered to heaven.7

We spent the next month together, and became seemingly inseparable.  He would often recite poetry, similar to that in which I now witness on Def Poetry every so often while watching television.  He was probably the smartest man that I had ever met in my life, which made me realize, that the stereotype I had placed upon his type, was not always the case.  One day, he told me that he felt it was time for me to go back, and face up to the mistakes that I have made.  He said that he envisioned me being a great man someday, and the sooner I went back, the sooner my dreams would one day come true.  I was hesitant to comply with his wishes, but as I respected him as a person, I had to respect his advice.  We went to Hardee's to enjoy one last cup of coffee, and a conversation in which would be our last.  He told me that he had done his job, and it was now time for me to go on, and live the life that was taken from him some time ago.  He gave to me a sticker in which his youngest daughter had given to him one day when he was feeling down.  It's a sticker that still takes up a small amount of space in my wallet today.  It was a sticker with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it, and at the bottom, it said "SMILE"  He told me to look at it every time I get down, and remember that it could always be worse, and that I have the strength to persevere.  He walked me to the bus stop, and payed my way back to the base with the change left in his pocket.  I shook his hand, and I told him that I loved him, and I'd never forget him.  He looked down at his feet, trying ever so hard to fight back the tears that were seemingly hiding behind his eyes.  He wished me luck, and he turned around, and walked away.  I watched him walking down the road until the Bus had driven so far away he was finally out of sight.  I went back, and was eventually discharged honorably due to a psychiatrists diagnosis.  8

As I sit here today, I still think about this man, and wonder why our path's crossed.  Every time things aren't going my way, I unfold the sticker within my wallet, and remember everything that he told me.  It is currently sitting on the desk beside the computer in which I am writing this very column.  There have been many people that have touched my life, but never has there been another who has touched it so deeply, from such an unusual stature in life.  I have had my fair share of hardships in my life since the days I spent with "The Birdman", but his words have always stood true to my heart, and have many times given me the strength to carry on with my dreams, and my aspirations.  I'll always love you Raymond.  Because of you, I can take the time to look past the pain, and sometimes, it's as if this place is heaven...9