A Day in the Life at JPS
While at the health center of the state
waiting eternity for my medications
that only the government can afford,
I met some of my fellow Americans,
who, like me, fight for health
and against the debt collectors we owe.
Beside me sat a woman 70 years of age,
whose health was better than those around her.
She'd seen the life of a friend
wither away by the rages of chemo,
and the life of both son-in-laws
deteriorate and extinguish by the greed of cancer
and the horrors of radiation treatments.
Yet she still could laugh and smile,
and chat with those of us around her.
Beside her in the line
sat a man who'd immigrated from Africa,
wearing the robes of his countrymen,
and the sandals of mine.
He radiated hope and spirit,
yearning for knowledge he could gain here.
On my other side sat a man from Mexico,
working to give his family hope.
A better life in this grand country,
though he could barely speak the words.
Behind us sat the queen who had the gossip.
His clothes bright and clean,
and his smile a winning charm.
And though he waited for medications
for an illness we all knew he had
it didn't seem to bother us;
his conversation a bright spot
in our dull surroundings.
And so we all sat,
keeping the others company,
laughing and talking,
enjoying the absurdities
that brought us all together.
Fighting for wellness, happiness,
against an economy we can't afford.