A first-world problem

Darkness looms about the house,

enters the old man’s dreams,

makes him heavy —

He won’t get up.

My love is far away,

my friends move in their own orbits,

the music pipes on bravely

but I’m lost

This is a first-world problem —

my house is warm and dry

and safe

and well-supplied.

The only thing I lack today

is feeling useful —

the sense of purpose and essential role

that serves community,

helps make it whole . . . 

I will fight for this

each day I have to —

to feed some greater need

would fill my soul.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 27, 2013