The Unemployed Poem by Raj Arumugam

At the entrance to
Toowong Village
four young men
stand in a cluster
and talk to
people who
look approachable



Excuse me, sir,
says one to me,
with a pack of envelopes
in his hand.
We are unemployed
and rather than go on the dole
we are trying to earn some money
selling these cards.
Would you care
to buy a pack, please?
I'm well-dressed today
and he must have thought
I was one of the class
of the employed;
I can't bear to tell him
the bad news
in case he thinks
I mock the unemployed
and so I mutter an apology


I move away
pained by my inability
to help
and I see in his face
the pain of another rejection.



(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))