There’s a trashcan on my sidewalk,
I placed earlier today.
It’s looking rather useless
and even in the way.
But it’s about to serve its purpose,
if the truck maintains its pace
to take away our refuse,
the discards and the waste.
The trashcan will be left empty,
ready to take on more,
then a short trip to the curb,
a quick and easy chore.
What about the wasteful things
we just can’t throw away?
No tidy, wheeled container
for our hate and our dismay.
No place to keep them buried,
that we agree to leave alone.
No way to call it garbage,
no way to let it go.
Why can’t we keep it easy,
set our sins out on the curb,
walk inside for coffee,
and let others be disturbed?
In our comfortable surroundings,
we want things to stay the same.
But we are surrounded by the discards
we have yet to claim.
We’ve discarded other’s rights.
We’ve discarded duties owed
to everyone essential
to the good life that we know.
There is no can on every curb,
no person to haul away
our damaging behaviors
that have to stop today.
We must tend to our own garbage
and end appeasement games.
We must discard our expectations
of just keeping things the same.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Random Entry. This one turned a little more political than I expected (but I guess that was the point of the prompt).
Poetry Prompts and Poems 