They piled one upon another, cascading down the stairway
darkly staring into the spaces in front of them.
The frothing sea of frowns and furrowed brows set upon me,
causing consternation and making me feel nervous.
Why do they come here day after day, piling upon each other?
What draws these masses here where individuality disappears?
Sad and sweating caricatures of themselves anywhere else,
with no memory of the humanity they possessed moments ago!
The boxcars await, rolling along the line 50 times a day,
demanding that the passengers demean themselves and submit!
Upon the platform, their indifference sets in as they watch and wait,
the doors open, releasing wave upon wave of silently marching beasts.
Grins and a quickened pace lend evidence to their relief at having
momentarily escaped their fate as prey items in a concrete Serengeti.
Even such obvious signs can't discourage them from this path though,
as they wait for the line to fall and the crackle and yelp of the cattle prod.
They have fresh in mind the sad and sunken eyes of hungry children and
the worried and repetitive fears and doubts of spouses and their own minds.
To do anything less would be a sin, a crime against family and faith.
Does it really matter that there is a better way if we cannot find the path to it?
darkly staring into the spaces in front of them.
The frothing sea of frowns and furrowed brows set upon me,
causing consternation and making me feel nervous.
Why do they come here day after day, piling upon each other?
What draws these masses here where individuality disappears?
Sad and sweating caricatures of themselves anywhere else,
with no memory of the humanity they possessed moments ago!
The boxcars await, rolling along the line 50 times a day,
demanding that the passengers demean themselves and submit!
Upon the platform, their indifference sets in as they watch and wait,
the doors open, releasing wave upon wave of silently marching beasts.
Grins and a quickened pace lend evidence to their relief at having
momentarily escaped their fate as prey items in a concrete Serengeti.
Even such obvious signs can't discourage them from this path though,
as they wait for the line to fall and the crackle and yelp of the cattle prod.
They have fresh in mind the sad and sunken eyes of hungry children and
the worried and repetitive fears and doubts of spouses and their own minds.
To do anything less would be a sin, a crime against family and faith.
Does it really matter that there is a better way if we cannot find the path to it?
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