Whispers

I was late,
for my own leaving party,
but we all knew that
I was already a Ghost.

I was the silence
When I entered the room,
and the roar of whispers stopped.
I was the collector of Cliches,
‘We don’t know what to say’,
‘It is not you,
It is the job that is surplus’,
‘It was purely a business decision’
‘We will give you a good reference’,
But when the boss looked up and said:
‘It never gets any easier’
it was like he was stealing the sympathy
that should have been mine.

I was not thanked for my overtime,
not paid for the leave I did not take,
I was used to a fraction of my potential,
and it was a lucky escape.
I knew it then, and I know it now.
It was just my time.
No recriminations.
No grudges held.
Just an escape plan,
to hold my head up high,
and not to explode
in a torrent of foul language.
I could have phoned the speaking clock in Japan,
and left the phone of the hook all night,
applied for everything going on the net,
using another Email address,
but that was not me.

I was late,
for my own leaving party,
but by then I knew,
I was laying my own ghosts to rest.