Pond

Senses

I am the eyes who see the reality of life—

the hungry mouth of street children that beg for food,

a battered wife in despair,

a problematic teenager in shadow’s of a shattered home.

I am the ears that hear the cries of pain and agony

of the world’s prison cell of poverty.

Listening with empathy

to the untamed wounded hearts of the sectors discriminated by our society.

I am the nose.

I smell the poisonous fishy poignant schemes in the government

which permits the upper class to illegally claim the land of fisherfolks and farmers.

When pimps sell children and women as sex slaves to foreigners,

the unhumane smell of wealth and lust suffocates me.

I am the tongue.

I have tasted the cold rusty chain of drug addiction,

the bitterness of justice denied in a time where due process has died,

the sourness of unequality before the law no human kind can martyrly abide.

I am the skin which can feel the loneliness and misery

of an elderly left unattended and,

the hard touch of suction in a violent

expulsion of the fetus in the womb without much affection.

I also can feel the facade tickling yet piercing sensation of a love,

where a pregnant lady has to be a bride without pride

while her groom desires to escape and hide.

I do not close my eyes in every scenario presented

or be blinded by cold cashes.

I never put my hands in my ears

nor pretend not to hear the laughter of

a man – slaughter dictator that drowns men in a bloody disaster.

I can feel their anguish sufferings

It makes me shiver with fear

But I can not just stand here and act unaffected.

I must do something

to prevent the dysfunction,

to restore impaired function,

to develop every individual in the nation.

I am accountable.

I have a social responsiblity.

For I am a SOCIAL WORKER

with senses.

Dahlia