I Do Hate My Job Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

I Do Hate My Job



and I have seen so much sorrow
in these past few years
and when I get out of my car
in front of a rundown house
my heart wants to break.

The yard is bare
and two children are playing in the dirt.
Their hair is a mess
and their clothes are dirty
and they make a sorrowful picture
with their running noses and big eyes
and they look up and I am noticed by them

and with a sleeve one of them
rubs off his nose and sniffs
while the other child just stares
and a underfed dog
runs between me and the children
and barks fiercely.

From the porch a woman looks up at me
and seems heavy laden, grief struck
with her dull hair hanging loose over her shoulders
and there is a bewildered look in her eyes
and with a hoarse voice she asks
if she can help me
and a cigarette looks
as if it’s mounted to her mouth.

“Madam, I am from the debt collecting agency”
I say and try to be polite
and it’s as if I am the grim reaper
and she walks up to her children
and pick them up,
leaving the dangling gate open
and just walks away.

Her very thin body looks broken
when she turns back to me
and it’s as if she is talking to the universe.

“My husband committed suicide yesterday.
The bank is busy foreclosing on this house
and the car has been repossessed
and I am left with only them”
she says and points at the children.

“Our lives did fall apart
a few years ago
and my husband had been jobless
for many years.
Take whatever you want
and leave us in peace.”

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Daleen Enslinstrydom

Daleen Enslinstrydom

Springs, South Africa
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