She Was In The Profession Poem by Raj Arumugam

She stopped her work at her lawn when she saw me
and leaned over the fence and we talked for over two hours
with my elbow on her posts and my feet resting
against the palings.


She had worked forty years in the same profession
and had seen generations through the doors. She
had enjoyed her work and people still call her to
tell her about themselves; they express their gratitude
and how much of a difference she had made.


She walked down the fence, waved her arms
and returned to the corner where I stood.


But what was work for?
she asked.
Forty years doing what was good for others
but nothing that was good for myself.
What was work for? she sighed.
What were forty years for? It destroyed me.





(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))