The Tears of a Commuter

By Lynn Ockersz

Merciless is this tension rise…

His ageing limbs go limp,

The lump in his throat,

Born of fasting and grief,

Becomes a suffocating grip,

For our bread-winning worker,

Who has a deadline to beat,

Before he is labled an absentee,

And handed a crushing pay cut,

Marking a further slide into poverty,

Still, buses lumber past him,

Tilting under passenger loads,

Cursing, squabbling and shoving,

But he is left behind, eyes tearing freely…

A wilting figure in engulfing shadows,

Of hulking men in battle fatigues,

Called out on Emergency duty.