A Few Metaphors On Working For A Living Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

"Work is Love, made visible." Kahlil Gibran


we have felt half measures, quarter measures

and measured words, too

slogging through rain, or sleet, or snow

almost as soldiers do or simmering summer parking lots

like deserts

to make up the city plotted distance from the bus

to where our warehoused duties wait.

probationed like prisoners from the word go

in some places

you know, to show us who's in control.

and you're on trial, or even, on loan.

and don't know anyone this far from home...

oh, my soul by planetary wars be not disturbed

the poet wrote. I add as a footnote.

this is what is called

working for a living and we are grateful

and forgiving

considering the alternatives.

yet when push comes to shoving us out the door

because you know they want to make more

and the easiest way is to cut your job

whatever it is

to make a Merry Christmas for the shareholders.

how can we not have a stake in this

when our lives are at risk, our families too

or maybe, only, our modest hobbies.

what we consider our life. our shabby home library,

more than shabby chic;

astronomy, keeping the goldfish fed.

other countries, torn by strife

by bloody civil unrest we know, we know

and children on their own

in every kind of zone

have suffered more than we, than me,

in the land of the nearly free on weekends

and I bow down and on my knees

for them.

but one small hymn

I sing for all my peers

who are counted failures.

wait. wait for the Gate swinging open

for your tears are heard

despite your being herded.

by the one who is the Word

that cannot be broken

who won't use you like a token

to barge through the golden turnstiles.

though from the time that we sign on

each day survived seems like a miracle.

still to be there.

but for how long.

each day feels a little

like the French Revolution.

new heads may roll.

so you perfect your role

in the enterprise avoiding the tumbrils

the best you can

being pretty far out

from the chain of command

and they're not sending the

Coast Guard

to find you in the flood.

though the One they crucified will.

_________________________

(the poet I cited is Elinor Wylie)

P.S. may God truly bless companies, managers,
coworkers who still retain the milk of human kindness.
and forgive those who don't.And may we do all, endure all for Divine Love has surely done the same for us.

mary angela douglas 9 september 2019

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