Officedom Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

while I am grateful that clerical jobs supported me
for much of my life
I wonder why when I look back
all of it seems now
kind of futile.
futile or feudal?
what was it that I was always so worried about
then
that I would be considered so expendable
as a temporary worker?
that I would seem to them as an office ghost
a person with no other life, surely not
incapable of whatever the people who had
been there the longest were of course
more than capable at.
was I afraid they wouldnt want me back?
why was I afraid
when I believed in God
why did I feel I was always swimming against the current
even to sharpen pencils
to type the slightest letter
even though easily I could type then
98 words per minute, and with happy speed.
I never could understand why they expected me
somehow to wear a professional face
as I only had the one face
the one person to be
perhaps that was what caused the difficulty
I could never play the role
though I could do whatever was asked of me.
why wasn't it enough I questioned constantly
within myself just to put my whole heart
into whatever task I was given
what more did they want?
whatever unnamed thing it was
I couldnt ferret it out.
I did not have a professional manner
oh but I profess that through my work
I loved God, His people too
the closing up of shop in the late afternoon
the everlasting sky.
I remember those strange kingdoms.
and how I wanted to fly.
against the tide that drove me there.
that drove me almost to despair.
I am glad I am no longer there.
mary angela douglas 13 july 2023