NEPHART.COM

Ten jobs.

Different rooms.

Different faces.

Never stayed long enough

for the floor

to learn

my name.

Some exits

had no goodbye.

Some wore misunderstandings.

Some exploded into fights.

Some limped out as plights.

Some flexed

with might.

When my thread was cut,

someone else

was already

flying a kite.

I worked hard.

Still couldn’t be the Ace in the deck.

Same cards,

same shuffle,

never the one

they played first.

Some called me good.

Some called me retard.

I’ve walked like a trekker,

backpack full of patience.

Once ran from a man

holding a knife,

questioning my existence

because I spoke

to his wife.

A bird leaves one branch

for another.

That’s survival.

But there were times

I couldn’t even decide

which branch

would hold.

Reports?

Perfect.

Work?

Perfect.

Future?

Doubt.

Mind?

Restless.

People?

Good enough for “hi.”

I never learned

a graceful way

to say goodbye.

I wrote about celebrities.

Worked for artists.

Worked for myself.

Hired some lads,

learned the hard way

You can’t carry

other people’s excuses

on your back.

Then abroad.

Every finger

pointed inward.

Language broken.

Confidence thin.

Strength questioned.

Compelled.

Weak.

Two years.

One job.

And today

Employee of the Month.

No fireworks.

No victory speech.

Just the year

finally noticing me,

tapping my shoulder,

saying,

Here.

You stayed.

Something small.

Something earned.

Something to cheer about.