SHAME

SHAME

- Vern Rutsala 

    This is the shame of the woman whose hand hides
    her smile because her teeth are so bad, not the grand
    self-hate that leads some to razors or pills
    or swan dives off beautiful bridges however
    tragic that is. This is the shame of seeing yourself,
    of being ashamed of where you live and what
    your father's paycheck lets you eat and wear.
    This is the shame of the fat and the bald,
    the unbearable blush of acne, the shame of having
    no lunch money and pretending you're not hungry.
    This is the shame of concealed sickness--diseases
    too expensive to afford that offer only their cold
    one-way ticket out. This is the shame of being ashamed,
    the self-disgust of the cheap wine drunk, the lassitude
    that makes junk accumulate, the shame that tells
    you there is another way to live but you are
    too dumb to find it. This is the real shame, the damned
    shame, the crying shame, the shame that's criminal,
    the shame of knowing words like "glory" are not
    in your vocabulary though they litter the Bibles
    you're still paying for. This is the shame of not
    knowing how to read and pretending you do.
    This is the shame that makes you afraid to leave your house,
    the shame of food stamps at the supermarket when
    the clerk shows impatience as you fumble with the change.
    This is the shame of dirty underwear, the shame
    of pretending your father works in an office
    as God intended all men to do. This is the shame
    of asking friends to let you off in front of the one
    nice house in the neighborhood and waiting
    in the shadows until they drive away before walking
    to the gloom of your house. This is the shame
    at the end of the mania for owning things, the shame
    of no heat in winter, the shame of eating cat food,
    the unholy shame of dreaming of a new house and car
    and the shame of knowing how cheap such dreams are.

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