For We the Meek: a poem by Jon Vreeland
This is for the one who gets up at the crack of hell to go to a job they hate to make some asshole richer, just so their kids and family can at least eat and have clothes. And this is for the one who can’t get up to go to a job they hate so their kids and family can eat because of
disease and untreated or ignored mental illness
permanent and arbitrary depression, (a spell they did not know they were under)
This is for the social worker who thought it necessary to give this person and their family the help they need, a little bit of solace when these problems arise, so the family can live, not be in complete misery and starvation.
This is for those making under $20/hour
for the people who weren’t born with everything handed to them on a white gold platter bordered with stolen jewels, for those getting deported back to a place where they will have no chance for the education they have already committed to here (and for some, it won’t even be allowed).
And we live in the shadows of the worst humans we have on this earth. So this is for you and this is for me,
We the meek and nobody else.