Comfort and joy
The lanyard marks us out,
or perhaps it is our badge,
as one whose days are filled with tales
of plots and skirmishes foiled and won.
Ranks of black screens greet us daily,
rein us tight into the network,
groan as emails uncoil and catapult
new fables into the morning meeting,
the battle for our colleagues’ souls.
We hold back fears, and maybe tears,
to win with a sentence, a word in code.
Who keeps the count is never clear
but the triumph is as breath
we breathed together, not alone.
Monitors blink black to bright,
fly from their bases, waltz us, whirl us.
Emails weave webs of stories;
gossamer tales that catch us
as we swirl, twirl.
Hurled from the comfort of the fight
we dance, we spin, we hunt for joy.
Our lanyards turn to ribbons,
twist and braid to plait around
lost maypoles of our dreams.
It all unwinds and there’s
no longer we, but only me,
and breath is mine