Recovery lies along a road, it’s said –
As do Damascus, serfdom, ruin and hell
For some that road is long and hard
For others short and cushioned well
Navigating the road to recovery
Is not just about finding the highway to take
But about who carries whom
The road to recovery we presently trudge
Sees the bling-dripping, overfed, wide-mouthed super-rich
Carried along on a golden carriage by an army of toilers
Weighed down by the unfaltering opulence of their privileged passengers
They need a robust suspension system
On the road to recovery
To avoid (or evade) finding the journey too taxing
They cushion their carriage with the bodies of the bearers
Who will bend our knees, take the blows and
Graze our skin on the gravelly surface
Of the road to recovery
Along which it is an honour for us to carry them
They are creating jobs with their demand to be borne aloft!
And their wealth trickles down!
See! There it goes!
A bit dripped off the end of their silver spoon
Into our upturned faces
Throw some ballast overboard!
Shout the well-laden passengers
Gripping more firmly onto their jewellery, gold bars and share portfolios
You down there! Tighten your belts, cast off your luxuries!
You are weighing us down!
Slowing our progress along the road to recovery
Don’t you understand that we are all in this together?!
The lofty passengers call down: Take your medicine!
It may taste bitter, but it is necessary!
So we take our medicine so they can recover
We must keep fit and lean
Enough to bear the weight of our
Ever hungrier cuckoo’s child in the golden nest
Along the road to recovery
Some of the bearers stumble and topple into the roadside ditch
The gold-embossed, diamond-adorned, luxuriant carriage-riders
Lean over, look down and instruct their bearers
Leave them! They are scroungers! Idlers!
Living off the labours of decent, hardworking folk like your good selves!
If they try to climb back out of the ditch –
Kick them back in!
And too many bearers say Yes Sir!
Though some say No! and reach out a hand to help
The first step onto the real road to recovery
Is to understand what made us sick
Put down the golden carriage!
Tell them to walk like everyone else
We’ll carry each other when they need to be lifted
Not when they demand to rest luxuriantly on the shoulders of the lower orders
Because the carriage, while built by us, is owned by them
As the dip in the road was ours, so the recovery is theirs
Just as the gains were kept private
But their losses were shared out amongst us, but not them
Recovery lies along a road, it’s said –
As do Damascus, serfdom, ruin and hell
For some that road is long and hard
For others short and cushioned well
