The Wealth of Charity Work

 

Another shift begins as a door closes,

a computer logs on and my boss sings.

Somewhere, a child starveling

could pluck a handful of rice:

opaque, milk-coloured grains

from floating gardens and sing there too.

 

In a sterile British hospital,

a mother might comb a child’s chemo hair

from their ill, shiny scalp and laugh

as they are forced to flip too fast

through the pages of a colourful picture book,

faces fill of futile hope.

 

A tube-fed, paralysed woman,

smiles as she remembers her favourite song

and elsewhere, some son,

punched moments before, seeks refuge,

from his father by strumming his first guitar

and my boss sings on, against all odds.

 

We live on the rim of minimum wage,

a few pints on a Friday night,

scarce pleasantries but always music,

eulogies for a poverty-stricken England

that used to care. We are rich, pockets full

of loose change, we slave for a better world.   

 

Reviews

[Jibey]

In giving we receive... You well capture the emotional drama of such outreach....

[Emily B]

the world is so much wealthier for work like yours, what you give to the world is so much more valuable than any other resource I can think of . . . you inspire me to greater things