Reflections on my native country and its near term social regression. |
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Decades of the RefugeesIt’s the decade of the refugeea third-world rising in America Downsized and confused, casualties out on the street, wondering where they went wrong Blown from the moorings of traditional jobs, without even a forecast of bad weather A job is a job is a job, too often a struggle without meaning, bound in chains of consumerism Displaced, replaced persons, looking over their shoulders Coming home to the question how was your day? without the foggiest and reaching for a drink Bombed-out without a war, yet no one’s serving doughnuts Like all refugees across the world, these too are powerless, picking among the ruins for what still has use Balanced only for the moment, silent as victims are always silent and hollow-eyed with fear Holding on and holding back in times that make a joke of the way things were A house, a car, dinner at six and college for the kids Not a chance in hell these days For-sale signs pop up here and there on a way of life and someone has to hit the road Lost in a country full of maps, impossible to find their way, flying blind Metaphorically burning the furniture to keep warm Their fathers built an open country and now it’s closing down Leaving a legacy of confusion as the borders all are closing And yet we’ve come this way before, survived the dust-bowl days of a great depression, to climb back again and thrive The nation nearly sank back then, but these are different times joblessness in soaring markets Maybe it’s time to look back again to try and find a road ahead |
This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |