Ode to the Development Worker

Solitary purpose

Another soulless hotel room,
     another mission.

The empty incantations of the Captain and
     the tired pre-flight litany,
A perilous taxi sanctified by a plastic flower
     long dead,
We ply between the complacent shores of plenty
     and the torpid shores of want.

A solitary table in the company of the
     Draft Report,
Tired eyes etched with cynicism,
     searching for the Holy Grail
In a sun washed paradise scarred by
     poverty and power.

I want nothing more than to sleep in my own bed,
     for the touch of family,
     and to eat home food.

But a few days and I'm on the road again,
     Ordained by the notion that I can make
     a difference.

Len Abrams
March 2002
in a hotel room in Nairobi

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