In my travels across the country, I have hiked many trails (like the trail pictured above), and every time I find myself wandering into seclusion, enveloped by the grandeur of Nature, I enter into a transcendental experience. Leaving the busy highways and chaotic city life, the moment my feet enter isolation they move with a newfound sense of freedom, propelling me forward, on to the next adventure.

But other trails exist in America, trails of tears, pathetic paths of human plight, leading to dens of depravity, nests of narcissism, where polyester homes of hopelessness are pitched, housing souls devoured by sadness and addiction.

The trail pictured above is close to my own homeless camp, and it appears to be a beautiful trail, isolated from the congested suburban shopping town of Douglasville, Georgia, but like the many homeless souls surrounding me, what appears harmless and peaceful at first, leads to the revelation that nastier things are found deeper within… just keep following the trail. This is what you may find- the remnants of a soul that just doesn’t give a damn . . .

This is what can be found at the end of those paths: a trash-littered existence, human bodies surrounded by refuse, only feet from their own feces. But that was only one path, how about we see what is at the other side of the woods..

Collapsed tents filled with collapsed hopes, surrounded by shattered glass and shattered dreams. The homeless environment reflects the homeless soul, incarcerated within a self-induced, doped-out despair.

Some say, Give them food, we will bring it to them… and this appears benevolent and full of good intentions, but what is left is donated garbage, the remnants of fruitless charity…

What else is expected from those who have already failed, given up hope, and have no ambition to be free from their circumstances? Call them names? Scold them for having made so many bad choices? Attempt to transform the mentally insane to some semblance of sanity? Or should they just be ignored, left to wallow in their misery?

I have a picture of another trail, leading to another homeless camp, but this one is slightly different than the rest, holding a more somber tale…

The first picture is a trail I found myself exploring one pleasant afternoon, and I took a detour down a side path, where I happened upon a tent. After cautiously approaching an open tent door, I found the emaciated body of a young man, who was so skinny and pale I thought he was dead.

Making some noise to see if I could get a response, the guy awoke, startled to see me standing there. He was out of it, coming down off something, but I talked with him for a bit and brought him to my camp, where I supplied him with a little food and water. Walking him back to his tent, I told him I would be back to check on him in a few days. I was concerned for him, and I really hoped that I could speak with him again, maybe even bring a little positive energy to his negative situation.

The young man did not last that long- he died of a heroin overdose the next day. When I returned to his camp, the tent was gone, and all the trash was picked up and removed. His family had arrived to clean up his final mess. When they departed, all that remained of his camp was the discolored grass where his tent had been pitched- the faded memory of a lost human being.

I stood there, looking into the dense thicket, wondering if there was anything more I could have done for such a sad soul (who I immediately noticed had given up on life). But I would never know…

It can be difficult to get passed the trash, the smell, and the negative energy saturating many homeless camps, but within that darkness and depravity is a human soul, and maybe, just maybe, a little hope. As for me, though I am homeless, I will hope, and I will dream, and I will continue to press on…