There are days I do not write a single poem
quietly measuring my worth
in affidavits I have carefully drafted
the words to wound or give relief.
The seriousness of being a lawyer
Is not to be taken with a pinch of salt
We march about the corridor
With a stride that defies belief.
Like penguins in our black and white
Serious faces and severe hairstyles
Full of self-imposed importance
We hum and move as bees.
We’re out to change the world
For the better, one case at a time.
A higher calling, a professional…
Wait, have you paid my fees?
The opening of the poem really resonated with me — you evoked such a familiar tension:
“There are days I do not write a single poem / quietly measuring my worth / in affidavits I have carefully drafted”
I love the 2nd paragraph 👌 👍
Thank you! 🙂
Thank you, this means so much!!! 🙂
I have a friend who is a lawyer. I think that is a hard job to do well. I have had family who had to deal with lawyers and, unfortunately, they did not seem to care too much what happened sometimes. Hope you are one of the good ones who cares… and still finds time to write a poem or two.
I hope so too. I guess we all try to do the best we can!