Essential Workers

A couple years ago, the world fell to its knees
And the changes brought with it the odd quirk
See, while most of us just stayed inside
Some people remained, to do essential work

This work had always been essential
It was just more commonly seen as mundane
Low skilled? Low paid? Replaceable?
We required it all the same

For a little while, we were less entitled
We gave these workers their due
Much of society we could get by without
But not these hardworking few

.

And now? The work is still essential
A fact we seem to have forgot
The old structures are reforming
Trying to reclaim their lot

Remember, remember, not so long ago
I know there was much distraction and strife
But it was a lesson worth learning in society
Whose services we actually need in life

Finish what you write

Finish what you write
And then write more
Don't be caught up
In a one-task chore

It may not be good
It just must be done
Finish it now
Start a new one

Later? Rework
Edit if life inspires
Don't be unfinished
It'll quell all desires

Finish a section
Finish with a cry
This work will be done
The end is nigh

Designed

Sometimes I forget
    That all things follow designs
We hollowed out the Earth
    And filled it carefully with mines

We can knit in careful patterns
    To make a scarf or hat
Interweaving narrow threads
    With surgery through skin and fat

Some folk made with delicate craft
    Rockets to carry humanity to space
We studied how the air flows
    To make us faster in each race

I try to remember good designs
    So that I do not despair
At the men who design weapons
    With great craft and care

When I read of history
    About the atrocities we've done
I see a person with my learning
    Wielding a pen like a gun

Chemical weapons were designed
    As was fertilizer for our bread
We choose our own impact
    So let's design things for good, instead

***

I recently read Maus by Art Spielman. It is a very beautiful and haunting graphic novel, detailing both Art's relationship with his (Jewish and Polish) father, and how his father survived during the war. Overall, it is a tale of survival and grim circumstance. In one frame, Art includes a small building plan of a crematorium. For some reason, it struck me how each element in this building (and in all the mechanisms) were indeed designed and planned. May I be granted the wisdom to never be involved in such designs myself.

Passport

Passport:
Name.
Date of Birth.
Country of Origin.
Picture.
Some simple truths to form your ID.
But, well, I don't really feel like that's really me.

I get it. It's a unique identifier.
A quick way to check if I'm a lier.
But no human who just met me would remember,
Whether I was born in October or November.

It doesn't say if I'm kind, or if I work too hard.
Next to my secret numbers on my credit card.
And it doesn't say what music I would prefer,
When legally driving, alone or chaffeur.

If I'm carrying something to show who I really am.
It'd be nice to have fun facts, like my favourite jam!
Or maybe some passions that get me up in the morning.
It could be useful to say whether I snap without warning...

Then again, gently putting privacy issues to one side
This poetic idea is one that would never have survived.
It's not that the beauty wouldn't make our passport stronger.
Just the fact it would make airport queues even longer.

Ruler of the Realm

King, Queen, Monach of your realm
Why do you rule as you do?
For that land which you keenly helm
Is there love, and order too?

Mayhap you have a throne
Or maybe no place to rest
In this place you call your own
Is it kept at its best?

Do you tend it for viewers,
To not seem unsightly to their eyes?
Do you hold things in place with skewers
That prick you, but they don't realise? 

I wonder if you in fact are aware
It is you, and solely you who rule
It is you who must decide to care
And whether to be sage or fool