Wednesday, April 13, 2016

True Friendship’s Ease: A nonprofit poem by Juliette Lee



True Friendship’s Ease
By: Juliette Lee

Our resident poet and fundraiser extraordinaire Juliette Lee wrote a beautiful poem about working at a Non-Profit organization. The poem is below.

True Friendship’s Ease

As winter fails into spring’s light ease
I find myself at my desk again,
mining Raiser’s Edge for small business partners or friends
who might provide some charitable relief
to our budgetary shortfalls and lend
a small sum or a sponsorship. I leave

as the young sun sets, and though I leave
in darkness, I find a golden ease;
Yes, the work is a challenge--yet I lend
all I have to it. And each day, I give myself again
because to serve is a joy and therein I have relief.
The women who come for services are now my friends.

I share stories about their savvy and strength to other friends
who work as professors; after a glass of wine, they leave
thoughtfully. I know, in some ways, they feel relief
at honing theorems and sharpening criticisms with ease--
never facing real hunger or need. But when I see them again,
they are the hungry ones. They lend

me ears that are thirsty birds, and my words lend
them newfound hope in humanity. True friends
lean over aisles, across borders and bars—never minding, again,
taboos of race, class, or gender. In service, we leave
assumptions aside. I learn each day to take my ease
among women who know actual grace—the relief

of being who you are, not who you should be. Our jobs relieve
them, we think. But truthfully, these women lend
us far more in spiritual worth. And with such ease
they teach me--a former professor--to befriend
those whom I once feared: the poor. So when I leave
and walk the miles home at dusk, marveling again

that another day has swept past--again, again, again--
I have to wonder—is it the donors alone that relieve
others with their charity? What is the truth of a gift? Who leaves
what legacies? Only stories remain. If my words have any truth to lend
it’s that these “poor” women’s lives nurture my friends
far more than my friends’ gifts provide the poor ease.
The young sun rises early, with ease,
brushing the sky’s face, clearing its murky eyes. They are friends--
and neither marvels at who takes or who lends.

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