Sometimes at night
When I feel like I
Have wronged
Or been wronged
And sleep evades me
I remember these words
To achieve acceptance
From any man, one must first
Accept that man
Himself. Likely spoken by
Many other people
Besides myself, I cannot comprehend
Why this has such a significance
To me. I can say, however, that they
Help me to
Better understand
The motives of the alienated and
Often unloved
Victims
Of poverty
In New York City.

When I first volunteered
My time
To help these poor people
Who have been neglected by
Society, and, in turn
Neglected it back-
I felt a sort of
Connection to
Them, that by living on
The edge, they had learned
Much more than I had
In my lifetime of
Pampering and
Privilege. And,
That they would share
This bountiful knowledge
In exchange for
A meal.
I was their messenger,
And in exchange
For my duties,
They detailed stories
And revealed their
Struggles
To me-
I had
Accepted them
And they
In turn, accepted
Me.
But that was
A long time
Ago, and it seems to me
That the
Warm spirits of those
Who come to eat
Have
Since diminished.
Alas, I believe I
Cannot tell anymore
Than the next man,
For I
Have moved on
From the front lines of
The volunteer force,
And taken up
A more
Unappreciated
Position- The role
That I, among so many
Others, realize the value of.
I now play the part of the stagehand
In the great performance
That is feeding, clothing, and supporting
The needy-
Behind the scenes,
Peeling
Organizing
Straightening
Preparing
An unforgiving job
Where no thanks
Is received, and no stories
Told.
While I toil in the
Back rooms, others enjoy
The spotlight
And the appreciation
Of all the people
I’ve worked
To serve.
But
When the day is done
And the kitchen is empty
And I lie in bed
Staring up
At the ceiling
Alone
Bitter
Regretful-
I do find sleep
And
I do find acceptance
For
Through my experiences
I have realized
That
The only appreciation I
Need ever desire
Is that
Which comes from within
My own heart.