The Whistle Blower Poem by Laurence Overmire

Took the sins of the Corporation
Upon her shoulders
The indignity of her firing

Struggling to make ends meet
Unemployed, without prospect
Children crying, hungry

Yet she endured

The barrage of punishing lawsuits
A legion of lawyers platooned
To make her life unbearable

Anonymous threats
Phone calls and burning
Mailboxes

Almost beaten, she clung
With bleeding fingers to the
Inviolable Truth

Truth that held her steady
Truth that wouldn’t let her go
Truth demanding apology

The gavel came down.

Some hear screams in the dead of night
Most continue dreaming
The bed so comfortable, and the morning

So far away.


(Previously published in The Hold, July 2003)