thirty wait in chairs
the rest queue up outside
drab bureaucracy
belies the breadth
of human experience
bringing them here,
together for the morning
brides and divorcees
change names, new citizens
clutching certificates
receive crisp new cards
widows strain to make sense
of paperwork
of grief’s abyss
workers in their worn out bodies
ashamed somehow to claim
their meager due
survivors who bucked the odds
report new jobs
drab bureaucracy
belies the sacred nature
of this space:
social creatures,
we must care for each other
spin threads from our souls
weave ourselves a net
land softly without judgement
waiting to be called
one by one they rotate
through the chairs
to the bullet-proof windows
and out the door
waiting to be called
to what is next