I’ve plumbed the depths and
walked the tunnel of despair.
No gleam of light to cheer
Brightened up the darkness there.
I’ve seen the gaunt faced men
who wait in patient queues
And, signing on the dotted line,
humbly collect their meagre dues.
Spirit broken by rejection,
a man without a job will wait
and, turning in upon himself,
will let despair turn into hate.
Mental health begins to suffer
when reality cannot be faced
and rationality departs from those
whose lack of work has a bitter taste.
Many months have passed for some
and still no freshening breeze
dispels the fog of unemployment
and a man’s mind will freeze
Written during a spell of unemployment during the recession of the early 1980s. Also a reminder of how it was for my father in the 1930s.