Take Social Care

An angel spoke to me one night
when I sat in my youth
he told me I should be aware
of one unerring truth:

That like or not the time will come
when I will need a hand
to guide me through my daily life
– not quite what I had planned.

He bade me think, this angel fair
of loving volunteers
and low paid carers struggling
to tend my ageing years.

What will I want when I am old?
An elephant that rages
because we locked the cupboard door
and wouldn’t pay her wages?

Am I so sure I will not yearn
for love’s sustaining patience
when I am old and on my own
with similar relations?

Why do we lend so little heed
to those who hold our future?
For I’ll receive what I beget –
if I forget to nurture.

“So pay the carers what you will,”
the angel said, “be certain
that you will want the gentlest hand
to close your final curtain.

In our midst

These elfin must, you say, be kept in check,
be weakened by the wiles you litter round,
for in full strength they’d melt your measly words
and cease your constant wars and mongering.

In market halls, in places you forgot,
they work their wisdom calm and quietly,
and people who are tired by what you do
arrive for salve and kind solicitude.

These elfin, simply people who don’t bow
to fear and hate and spin, will tarry long,
and when you send your twisted stooges in,
be unapparent, veiled, but ever strong.