Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash
Technological advancement may have made this ancient construct unnecessary on most days. But it is necessary, so be sure to keep it clean and clear, for one fateful day it could save many lives.
The Vestigial Organ
My ancestors,
they tell a story
Of forgotten days,
of glamor and glory
Then why today,
am I a nobody?
Unadorned, unpolished
lacking splendor
I am a cheap, sad, copy
of my grand grandfather
He was displayed
with pomp and pride,
but I am shoved
to a corner aside
While he was
the walk of fame,
when I'm noticed
I burn with shame
behind my door
marked with a flame
Even my mother
saw better days
Dull, but much needed
she was contended
And when she aided
in a secret affair
in the excitement
she would share
But me, I have no purpose
A relic of the past,
dirty and repulsive,
I lay neglected
With all that's smelly,
forgotten and rejected
Until one day,
befell a great tragedy
Then suddenly,
everyone crowded on to me
While their world
turned bright and hot,
it was me
they frantically sought,
though most of them
had known me not
In anguished screams,
they lamented my neglect
As they waded through,
grime and trash
desperate to escape,
smoke and ash
It took a massacre,
for me to learn my purpose
It took a bloodbath,
for them to remember it
But how long before they forget
and I return to a state of neglect?
This is a poem about the change in role of stairs in our society. They used to be both useful and grand in palaces and mansions where royalty and nobility walked down while everyone watched in awe. Then they became common place and widely used, and during certain hours of they day, they ocassionally, served as a refuge for lovers. But today, especially in high rises, they are hardly ever used. Yet they are far from obsolete. We never think much of them, but if ever we needed them, really needed them, we would want them to be in the best of shape, for many lives could be saved by an unobstructed, clean, well maintained stairwell when a high rise is on fire.