Who do you see? A poem by Fiona Kennaugh

 

Who do you see?

 
You see a smiling woman dressed well and hair brushed.
I see a broken soul, every day a struggle, I’m crushed.
You see a benefits scrounger. ‘I bet she could work on a till’.
I see a desperate life ahead, how will we pay the gas bill?
You see me shuffling in the post office and stare.
I see myself in your eyes and the shame is hard to bear.
You see me in a car in a disabled bay and judge me .
I see disbelief in your face. My life is not for free.
PIP did not see me at all, copy and paste is their line .
Universal Credit saw me eventually after some time .
My family hide from the progressing symptoms I suffer.
I cannot hide, for me there is no buffer.
They see me, but not me now, me then .
I see the ugly truth, no hiding, the power of the pen.
Employers saw an easy mark, ‘lets get rid’.
I saw very little in kindness, and ready to blow the lid.
You see me holding up the queue at the tills.
I see a slow, sad person, never expected to be so ill.
My husband sees me at my worst.
I see him and my heart is fit to burst.
You see nothing, with your lack of levity .
I see Parkinsons disease and poverty.