Working on Welfare

“I had a dream,”
That I could help.
30 years later,
The dream I shared with Martin
Has morphed into something else.

I followed that dream out of the ghetto,
Through high school and college
Into the savagery of years spent
Seeking for a way to subdue shame.

Helping brothers and sisters escape
The inexorable, gravitational pull
Down, to where crippled egos
Fought waves of ennui and collapse.

They came demanding alms,
Needing to find sunshine.
We spoke of escape
From the labyrinthine maze.

We might meet on a bench
Adjoining a park engulfed
By giant buildings housing
Caves of the rich.

From the derelict dying bench we could watched
Chauffeured chariots.
Their size bespoke
A need to dominate and hid.

Now I know welfare is a cheap fix,
Waiting for someone really clever,
With an antidote for despair,
Indifference and poverty.

No longer do I sit at my desk,
Or visit the homes of victims.
Now I can surface,
Unburdened of anger and angst .