They eagerly await
The family’s arrival.
How he loves his tousled,
Rambunctious grandchildren.
Looking out the window,
He thinks of his boyhood.
Pain and want become
Wealth and comfort.
Such distant images,
Times never to be relived.
He pauses by his study,
One small bit of business to do.
Distant decisions spawning
Unseen consequences.
Yet another family struggles
To pay the bills.
The opportunity presents itself
To do whatever he wishes,
In any way he wants,
No limits, constraints,
But for conscience.
Chooses exploitation
And lining his pockets
With their misery.
A trajectory foretold by
Ingrained years of pain.
It’s easy and spectacularly
Unrewarding to live steeped in
Superficial understanding and
Suppression of underlying meaning.
Issues pending, dangling,
Perpetually postponed review.
Submerged in disorienting darkness,
Perspective bends under the weight of
Expanding delusion, self-congratulation,
Cinching of possibility,
Imagination stifled by fictional reality,
Robust defense of fabricated truth.
A group of angry people met in a room,
Enraged because the beliefs they so
Readily, joyously, ruthlessly
Imposed on others were no longer
Popular; exposed as petty,
Disingenuous, destructive.
They machinated at length,
What to do about this conundrum.
The solution arrived in a flash of
Inspiration: Keep doing the same
Things that got them here.
A group of angry people stayed
Angry as angry people do.
Surveying the rows of houses,
I am struck by their drab
Sameness, a kind of uniform
Dilapidation rendered stark
By a tepid sun. Inside,
Dreams die by the thousands.
Gregarious and confident
On the outside, trembling
And tentative on the inside.
The sense that he’s never
Really good enough, no matter
How blustery his exterior.
No sense of his utter inability
To connect with anyone on a
Deeper level, as a human being.
Each encounter becomes another
Opportunity to use someone else
To bolster waning self-esteem.
An intransigent cabal
That will not budge
No matter how many people
Live without dignity,
Starve in plain sight,
Wander the streets.
Inconceivably broad swaths
Of society condemned to
Lives of suffering and toil,
Lack of opportunities,
Just to avoid
Upsetting the wealthy.
A moment suspended,
She stares across the
Crowded room and begins a
Reassessment of everything
That has led to this moment:
Soaring triumphs,
Searing failures,
The story of what has
Come before and what it
Might mean for her future,
The realization that she
Wasn’t always awake
When it all happened.
It was a remark
That made everyone
Pause for a moment and
Perform a reluctant
Self-inventory before
Deciding what to do next.
No one spoke up,
This being a civilized
Place inhabited by
Fearful creatures who
Give wide berth to
The loudest voice and
Keep their objections,
If they had any,
To themselves, allowing
The blowhard to spread
His disease everywhere.
Though these could be
Moments of reflection,
They instead become
Frantic lurches from
One place to another
Desperately trying to
Make the discomfort
Go away and replace it
With who knows what,
Because nobody really
Acknowledges anything
Or is willing talk about
What’s really going on
And why it’s happening.