Poetry
1 min
Ode to the Silent Workers
Jack Leizman
Ode to the Silent Workers
By Jack Leizman
Somehow, having gone
unrecognized all this time,
there are those who toil through
the hours. They silently clean
up our messes without a voice.
We hear only the sounds of their battered old trucks
in the early morning as we roll over to sleep a little longer.
It never used to cross my mind this much,
but layers upon layers of my trash and waste,
I think: and this is just my portion.
What is to be of all those other people,
will the trash level with skyscrapers and dwarf elephants?
What then will we do to save our once pristine Earth?
We are the child,
the toddler with the clear eyes and warm smile.
Even the richest, the cream of the crop, the most powerful among us,
are nothing but blissfully ignorant babies.
Completely unaware of the disorder that we create.
They, the quiet, dedicated garbage collectors,
are the impossibly patient parents.
The kind mother and the composed father, who
never cease to clean up the scattered mess.
Every week, the parents like skilled magicians make the unwanted disappear.
Pollution is the danger that the parents did all they could to protect their children from,
yet it was still bound to return.
It was practically written in the stars that the rampant toddler would
trip and skin their knee -- or worse.
The parents, as humbled and selfless as ever,
would blame themselves for not doing more.
These strong silent workers do not seek praise nor do they receive it.
They do not want our sympathy
but isn't their work deserving of a kind word?
No one grows up and dreams of being a garbage collector.
I wonder what they had wanted to be when they were young?
I wonder what they would say.
There are many that go unheard.
The women who clean the offices late at night,
the dishwashers in the back kitchen of your favorite restaurant,
and the farm workers who pick the berries for your breakfast.
If you could hear their voices, you would know that
we all have the same dreams.
I see them more now.
Leaving school after my practice, I look for my ride to hurry home for dinner.
But they are still there cleaning the classrooms
and will have to wait until night to hug their children.
There are so many around us that do the tiring hard work that others won't.
I see them and I am grateful.
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