A Voice from the Toolbox By Jasen Sousa

A Voice from the Toolbox


Grass burns.
Lights bulbs flicker.
Paint peels.
Trash overflows.

Faces are not recognized.
Uneducated logo-bearers painted with blue collars,
underpaid, overworked and unappreciated

by men whose sense and compassion are strangled by bowties.

Compensation? I hope they factor in
bad backs, strains and stress
which were received at the end of
every week with our pay stubs.

We are offered numbers. We are numbers.
All we desire is respect and truth.

The scuffs from our work boots are forever imbedded
into a campus that struggles with what type of saving

they stand for.

Sweat stitched into the brim of my hat
will always remind me of snowstorms,
furniture in and out of basements and maintenance
to keep a place functioning.

Our lockers will be stuffed
with new items,
our chairs will carry
the burdens of other men.

“How many people does it take
to change a light bulb?”

Not as many as it takes to
disrupt ones livelihood.




Taken From
Humming Eternity By Jasen Sousa (Written During Emerson College Era)
©