You don't seem to know us yet,
Or perhaps you pretend not to see us,
Yet we clean your windows,
We trim your hedges,
We erect your citadels,
We serve you delicate meads,
We drive your car,
We open your garage,
We pare your toenails and adorn them with stars –
Perhaps during one of those cocktails
Or in one of those nightclubs,
You will see us pumping on the hand-soap bottle for you,
Hand you three sheets of hand-drying paper
And flush your stool.
We cut your hair too.
Yet our hand is not held out in expectancy of a tip,
But rather in expectancy of you shaking it.
We are there, lurking at the edge of light,
Because our sight may be found unseemly.
Perhaps our skin is too dark and reminds you of the night.
Or perhaps it is too white and reminds you of the moon –
Both you hold in awe and dread.
We sell transport coupons at the booth to you.
We lose you luggage,
We find your luggage.
We snatch at your purse,
We catch us red-handed.
Perhaps you have bribed us,
Perhaps we have bribed ourselves;
Perhaps we have bailed you out.
We abide by our principles and we obey your laws.
And yes, at some point in our lives,
We pick up your shit, because
That almost solid, big brown tusk
That unseen ESW –
External Sign of Wholesomeness –
Is clogging the pipe.
We are very dutiful, like we said.
We go to great lengths to soften your reality.
We save your lives and perhaps then do you see us,
But then you and us will forget, for we are humans.
We are your hands. We are your eyes.
We could well be your bodily functions,
If you so desired. We are sacrifice incarnated.
We are the paragon of incombustibility –
None could burn us down since Time began –
Yet fire crackles within us.
We entertain you. We sell you the clothes we have custom tailor-made for you.
We show you films we have made with your own money
Films in which you play the main role.
We massage your harassed body.
Harassment which we may have provoked, unwittingly.
We make you feel better, yet you don't seem to see us.
We have kissed you, perhaps in the aftermath of drunkenness.
We have eased the night of its phantoms and fantasies.
We have sold ourselves to you, knowingly.
Perhaps you are oblivious to us because
We have yet to learnt to speak,
And to walk, and to flee.
We have to recognise friend from foe,
For we are very different from you, and sometimes from ourselves.
And we have yet to learn to stop ignoring the likes of you,
Though this will prove difficult for we are all selfish,
And we all do look alike.
Our propensity to jealousy will not help either,
Though we will call it 'protection of our identity'.
We will have to learn not to leave anyone behind, especially the needy and the lame.
We have to learn to love you as much as we love ourselves.
In return, you will have to be patient and forgiving, and loving of course.
The first rule being never to touch the wings of a butterfly,
The second never to cheat yourself with someone else.
Yet we are invisible to your eyes, even to your senses.
Even though we inhabit the same space, we dwell in other lands.
What could we do to make you see us?
Should we strip naked and hold the knife under our own throat?
Perhaps you hate us. We may also hate you.
But all this detestation is aimless,
For you don't see us now,
And we have yet to reveal ourselves to ourselves.
We consider your joining us in our trade:
We refuse, we accept, we coax, we shun.
We educate your children.
We have raped your wives and pillaged your temples,
But that was a long time ago.
We have forgotten.
Perhaps some of us haven't, who knows, for we remain elusive, secretive.
Cold, silent anger festering in the fold of our navel.
We also operate your industries, your businesses, your clubs.
We enforce the laws,
We help you decipher the laws,
We make the laws,
To our advantage or to our disadvantage,
For we are impartial.
And oh yes, we govern you, because all of us are the country.
