I weep for wand'ring far...alone?

Recently, I had decided to risk taking a break from studies and go back home (Jamaica) for a weekend to attend a funeral, a concert and to see my family and taste 'our' food; to sort of reconnect and refresh myself from a debilitating case of homesickness. I was walking to the Taxi stand to get home, having lost track of time liming at a friend's place catching up on all I had missed with them, while being a student abroad for the past 6 months. The driver who stopped for me, impatient as the light had changed beeped to hurry us along (what transpired after could only be because he had thought he was waiting for two customers not one). I headed into the car and after I said morning, he [driver] proceeded to ask why it was that he [my friend] had to walk me to the bus stop. I responded with "because we were still in a conversation"- or at least I began to, as in true ignorant fashion, he did not allow me to finish before repeating the question twice, coming to a halt at the bus stop below the light, at which point for brevity let's just say he asked me to leave his car, all the while stating his hate for "people like you and him". I left his car, almost responding in kind and closed his door... He was about to and did drive off, before his apparent crony in the front seat convinced him that "is really slam di batty boy slam yuh car door" whereupon he came to a halt yet again, now in the middle of the road, venting his upset at my disrespect of him. When I responded that I did no such thing he came out and around to me, brandishing a sharpened screw driver. He then, while continuing his soliloquy came into my space and hit me in the face, sending my glasses flying to land in the grass behind me. It was open handed, and it did not really hurt, in fact it convinced me that if it were a fair fight I could have trounced him with energy to spare; he was an unhealthy man, whose bulk is more attributable to food and alcohol as opposed to brawn. I'm sure he realised this in the same instant I did; because he again brought attention to his screw driver and his friend, holding the front door, at the ready to jump in. It set my teeth on edge to let it go, but I stood there. I stood there as he shouted to other taxis heading in opposite direction to turn and come down the route, that he had just expelled this "Batty man" from his vehicle and encouraged them to do the same. He then, vindicated in his self-righteousness, swaggered to his seat and drove off. A taxi man behind him, who had stopped to witness the event, and looking at me with the unmistakable stare of pity asked if I was headed on his route. I wasn't, but I put all my gratitude at his quiet support in my decline and thanked him. Shortly after I had got into another cab, and a quarter of the way home I realised my vision was blurred and my eyes stung. I knew I had no urge to cry and checked my face... my glasses were not there! Jolted, I asked the driver if I came in wearing them.  He said no, and I begged him and other passengers to turn back, as I needed them - stressing that they were not style accessories, and it was beginning to hurt. The other travellers, no doubt high from their weekly obeisance of church and likely feeling magnanimous, allowed for the return.  I found my lenses in the low grass, unscathed, a few inches from a steaming pile of animal excrement. Thankful for that small mercy, I took them, cleaning the lenses in my shirt as I returned to my seat to the applause of my fellow passengers who considered it lucky that though I was careless, the Lord made my glasses stay unmolested so I could come back and find it; especially as they "looked so stylish and expensive." I didn't answer, and beyond a hushed 'thank you' when I exited said not another word until I was in my room telling my father good morning

I am tired...and despairing of finding any place in my own mind to retreat to from the lashes of a cruel reality. It is not that my experience caused some immense awakening; I had seen abuses: prevented a few, had to sit through some, and some are so gruesome that they leave a stain on my soul that no amount of prayer has or will be able to exorcise from me - but the question remains... how does one even find strength to breathe anymore?