So You Think I’m A Bum?
Met a man frustrated with his job, just last night,
Who declared to everyone near, with all of his might,
“I want to get injured, and get on Disability,
I’m tired of working,” so very shocked, was me.
Sitting around, ‘cause I’m socially labeled,
Wondering, about the root meaning of, “Disabled.”
Is it really me, or just perception of the nondisabled?
Medically justifiable, or socially enabled?
Apply here, go there, filling up employers files,
Receiving stares and gawks, shaking heads with smiles,
“We’ll get back to you’s,” and oh so polite denials,
Oh Lord I just can’t stand the endless trials.
Years have gone by, the paid positions few,
Wish I had a regular job, just like you,
It would be so nice, if a boss could see past disability,
And employ this person; yes just like me.
Instead I get stigma, prejudice, stares and shame,
Laws made for prevention, and no one to blame,
Every single day goes by and it’s all the same,
Yet you complain about your job, as if it’s a game.
Do you understand that you could be here with me?
Staring at a plastic employer’s face devoid of empathy?
Wishing for a job with benefits and good pay monthly?
A part of 65% unemployment misery?
- Thomas C. Weiss, M.A.
