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,
softly.
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?
Sorry again. 

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
Peace, tranquillity, 
Relief that all all that effort is done,
For One. MORE.WEEK.