Some of us really wanna
serve, teach, help with outreach.
All our energies go on survival.
I don't know what to do.
Do I go?
Asleep almost on arrival,
serve or swerve,
survive or thrive?
Unbidden memories scatter,
shatter, all over my battered heart.
Church, it hurts.
Words flow around me as I snore,
Realising my mistake,
Up I wake,
What did I miss?
I wish it wasn't so hard
Concentration so fleetingly
there, but not. Fatigue, ever present,
I would weep, but
Time I have not.
Sweeping round the bairns,
In the direction of caffeine
and sugar, in fright i halt.
Millimeters from disaster.
I kid you not, a child lay in front of me
Same shade of gray clothing as
the carpet on which i roll, crisis only narrowly averted.
Need that sugar now.
Scalding coffee gulped,
Round I spin, in the opposite direction
I travelled mere minutes ago.
On i roll, apologetically excusing
my existance, as I roll onwards
Watching in despair at the forming queue.
Please, can i go first?
I must get this taxi.
Not happy. No time
with my friends but just one driver
For all the wobbly people, depending on motors, wheels, crutches, and a kindly face, needing space and a friendly word
Reassurance that home is near,
for fear of lateness,
and being labelled a nuissance.
Necessary compromise, so we can keep the
One way I get from A to B quickly.
Home. Eat or sleep,
weep or seek
Relief that all all that effort is done,
For One. MORE.WEEK.