Occupy Wall Street Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

The sweat streams
Down her cheeks
And loses itself
In her
Blouse. There’s time
Yet for her to
Leave. The clock ticks
On. Her eyes
Hurt. Her hands
Feel numb. Is this
Life? She
Has no choice.
Its her day.
Darkness all around,
Sweating it out for
A morsel of
Food for her
Family waiting
Patiently for her
Return.
Her fingers ache.
The machine
Throbs in her
Head. She lifts
Her hand to wipe
Off the sweat.
Wall Street’s
Occupied, drones
The newsreader.
She looks up but
Doesn’t understand.
Then back to
The machine.