Liz Warren | Storyteller

Early Thursday morning. On my way to the White Tank County Cemetery. A place practically devoid of headstones, mostly graced with little copper markers. Markers making those who were invisible a little less invisible. Markers that guarantee the holders of each of these individual’s stories will be able to find them. And reminisce. And tell the tales.

These are the graves of the poor, the homeless, the unclaimed. There were eight souls that were being interred that day. As I got nearer I wondered who they were, what were their lessons, their hardships, their joys. What were the stories of their lives. And today they would be surrounded by volunteers who would serve as Officiates of their funeral and mourners, offering prayers and blessings. They would be placed in their final resting place by the female prisoners, all in chains, carefully, gracefully and tearfully lowering them into the ground.

The first soul interred was a day old infant who had been abandoned at death. Micah. She never had a chance to accumulate her stories except those she absorbed in utero from her mother. Michael, Joseph, Alexander and Elizabeth. I heard her name and wondered who what when where why, why this. What wisdom could I have learned from tales of her journey.

And then I thought of a homeless woman I had befriended in my work at Andre House. I call her Chicago. She is a fighter. Waiting for promised housing. Smart, hard worker, married a husband whose habits cost them their home. She is a little younger than I but had stories to tell. When I last saw her she was in tears. The powers that be had torn down her camp and thrown away her belongings. Yet she will fight to move forward. She has a story of truth to tell for those who will listen.

Just as in the days of old, myths and folktales, these invisible people are all on a hero’s journey that would match any of their predecessors. Are we brave enough to listen to their stories, fight to give them a chance to tell them or will we turn a deaf ear. A story is a story is a story no matter whose it is.