Cellaress at Thanksgiving
Texas writer Mariah Boone has contributed some wonderful things to these pages (Night House, Eclipse, Packing for Day Care). You may have also read her blog.
Her poem today gives voice to the need among the plenty, very powerful
in this time of uncertainty and something to consider as we mouth the
customary platitudes this Thanksgiving.
Cellaress at Thanksgiving
By Mariah Boone
Lugged the box for the Y-Teens' canned food drive out
Of my classroom last night
To the storage room where they'll be collected
Some in my homeroom brought cans, not many
More need the cans
The Y-Teens will distribute them
Every little bit helps
This morning I was angry
Getting dressed in front of a news story on TV
Citizens and shelter managers and reporters
Disrespecting panhandlers, saying
Not to give them money
Painting them with brushes of alcohol and cigarettes
Like you wouldn't drink and smoke with similar stressors
Tonight my husband and daughter remembered
The can drives at their own schools
We need a can each, he said
I glared at him
Went to the crowded pantry
Passed out corn, beans, oranges, pumpkin, rice, soup
Can by can
The crowded pantry haunts me
The snotty anti-panhandlers
What kind of stewards are we?
There will never be enough goodness in me
To exonerate all this.
Cellaress at Thanksgiving
By Mariah Boone
Lugged the box for the Y-Teens' canned food drive out
Of my classroom last night
To the storage room where they'll be collected
Some in my homeroom brought cans, not many
More need the cans
The Y-Teens will distribute them
Every little bit helps
This morning I was angry
Getting dressed in front of a news story on TV
Citizens and shelter managers and reporters
Disrespecting panhandlers, saying
Not to give them money
Painting them with brushes of alcohol and cigarettes
Like you wouldn't drink and smoke with similar stressors
Tonight my husband and daughter remembered
The can drives at their own schools
We need a can each, he said
I glared at him
Went to the crowded pantry
Passed out corn, beans, oranges, pumpkin, rice, soup
Can by can
The crowded pantry haunts me
The snotty anti-panhandlers
What kind of stewards are we?
There will never be enough goodness in me
To exonerate all this.
Posted by Annmarie at 11/24/2009 11:04 PM 
Categories: today's words
Tags: hungry Mariah Boone food charity poverty Thanksgiving
Categories: today's words
Tags: hungry Mariah Boone food charity poverty Thanksgiving
Oh Mariah, love the phrase, "painting them with the brushes of alcohol and cigarettes."
Your poem, asking, "what kind of stewards are we?" made me want to be a better person. I'm sure it affected others in the same manner.
Thank you for an amazing poem.
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