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On the drive to work
I’d see them there
Serving others
At their table prepared
With Hispanic foods
In heating trays
No matter the weather
Doing whatever it takes
As the sun rose
Stuck in social shadows
I’d imagine the dragons
they'd daily face
They served breakfast or lunch
For their small community
Feeding the breadwinners
of immigrant families
Living with racism and oppression
In the Land of the Free
A world for them, so different
As if we don’t all bleed
But under glances of strangers
Looking down their nose
These two humble ladies
Prepared; and each morning rose
To do what they could to help
The best way they know how
Which is what any of us
Should aspire to anyhow
And I thought how nothing I’d do today
In my job that affords so many liberties,
Would matter or affect others as much
As these angels who just cared and
Showed up for free
So I’d go in to work feeling sad or inspired
Maybe arrange to hold a food bank drive,
Jot down the impressions they'd left on my mind
How meals and a safe harbor
Are someone’s ceiling sometimes
It’s been a year and I don't see them out there anymore
Serving Mexican laborors at the corner store
Quietly living out loud when it was still safe
Before it became normal to hear of ICE raids.

There once was time to sit and spin
The dream without, the light within
When young ideals like creed and rote
Would wreathe their blue tobacco smoke!

When wine was certain at each sip
When answers leapt at every lip,
Such were the days, when we all knew
If we were asked, what we would do.

But life began to call us in
And time, as such, has grown so thin,
We rush to do the things we must
While dreams, ideals, are things of dust.

And soon we turn our backs on them
Those shadows that were once young men
Who never dreamt hypocrisy
Would spill their dreams, philosophy;

And rule them with a rod of steel
And teach them well how not to feel,
And lead them blindly through their days –
They spare no thought for younger ways.

And where that dream, ideal, that once
Was held to spell deliverance?
Well we might ask, and well we might;
It’s life, not death, puts out the light!

David Lewis Paget
Hopeful Ponderer Sep 2017
Old man where is your hope
As you rest weary bones
On the sidewalk in the cold
Sitting for a spell
In the square by a door
What's your next move
And what is it for
Bicycle parked
Bag to the side
Who do you call
Who's on your side
Old man, in tattered clothes
People see you
But nobody knows
The story you hide
The dignity inside
What you have to offer
The world as it goes
Hopeful Ponderer Apr 2017
I close my eyes
My heart swells
My chest feels tight
Breath in
Then I exhale
All the weight of a wish
And watch dandelion seeds
Like scattered dreams
And times gone by
Blowing in the wind
When will I see you again
Potential rests
In every grain
And prayers
Cover them in all love
And I'm hoping to
Walk along side them someday
Hopeful Ponderer Apr 2017
Like a swarm of bees
A meloncholy change
Momentary sneeze
You wonder what's the buzz
The fuss
Where's the charm
That used to hold you captive
And had you so disarmed

Well, for a moment anyways
Daffodils, azaleas bloomed
Against the blues and grays
Of an overcast sky
A cold snap,
Then a freeze
That paralyzed the beauty
Beneath the bright green trees
And weeks passed by
And petals fell away
And color faded out
To just another day

But fortunately the dogwoods
Show up just then
You think the show's over
Then they come sweeping in

VSM '17
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