Some of us are still here
Sitting, no longer expectantly,
Behind grey windows and brown walls
Whose vacant stare we’ve adopted
As defense against the loss of hope
We sit, whiling the hours till it is time to leave for work
Or not.
Work that pays just enough to pay rent, and food, and
transportation
To get to work and back
Or not.
Sometimes, when we forget ourselves,
We hate you, just a little bit, for making it out
We are jealous of your successes large and small
But only when we forget ourselves
When we return to sense
Your success is our pride
We love you because you made it out
We don’t want anything from you
Except that you remember,
In the midst of that money, and power,
And bright life
That some of us are still here.
March 2009
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