Monday Mourning — Poem

My first job was working at a fresh food market in the 11th grade

Finally it was my chance to get my own wage

Even more than getting paid I was thrilled for the friends and new relationships to be made. And, on that first day…

I found out it was a masquerade. Most weren’t filled with praise but self-pity

Constantly complaining

Dramatically draining

Persistently persuading

Themselves and each other, that their place of work was an utter sentence to chains

Specifically on every Monday of the week there was a sense of mourning

More people grew meek seeking to pull themselves from the present

As I look around today, lots of things seem the same way

Now this may sound dumb, but I think most have grown numb to the feeling they first had walking in the door. The urge to try new things and explore

Whether it was 9 to 5 or 8 to 4 We were passionate about the struggle and the growth, but now we’ve grown sore.

It is not in our job description to live this way anymore

If our work has truly brought us to the stage of worry then let it be discontinued and our refugee begin

Otherwise, the only reason we complain is if we know of something better within. Where every Monday we can pull in to work with a grin

We may approach those whose internal lights have grown dim. But we will spread the notion of TGIM.

Where many have felt the need to plead until their last working minute has struck, we will feed the seeds to give our best until time is up

We can defeat this feeling that is so alluring. Give gratitude instead of complaints so our joy is ever enduring

When agony rises and moments seem boring. Let us fight back so it is NEVER: “…just another Monday Mourning”

~ Speak Light