Just taking a moment to think of the homeless all across this great lonely world.
You know, it doesn’t matter if you’re homeless because you’re a destitute refugee from Zimbabwe or Mozambique, if you are mentally ill and guarding your park bench, if you’re an alcoholic or an addict trapped in a vice that keeps squeezing you into a smaller and smaller space.
It’s getting dark and cold and there is nowhere to go. Nobody cares. Nobody has left a light on for those of us who have lost our way home.
Under a bridge next to the railway on the Simonstown route, the homeless used to sing this on nights when the rain was coming down and the crackling acacia fires in disused petrol drums sank low. From the great Ella Fitzgerald:
Tell me where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb
There’s a somebody I’m longing to see
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone to watch over me
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in a wood
I know I could always be good
To one who’ll watch over me