Reflections on my native country and its near term social regression.

Decades of the Refugees

It’s the decade of the refugee
a 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

Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.