Laboring

I see them
in their hard-hats,
safety vests,
heavy boots
(caked with the grime of work),
and I am dressed as they are.

 

My heavy work-shirt,
my steel-toed shoes,
my gloves
(which have failed
my roughened hands).

 

It is a form of work
that trades our bodies
for a paycheck
and security.

 

I see them,
I am one of them,
But I am not
of them…
and they know it.

 

I am an imposter
in this physical job
where my spirit is in rebellion
and that truth shines from my face.