On the last day for taxes
two women arrive
after we are packing up boxes
to close the end of another season.
Picking up stray papers
and stacks of tax forms,
I hear the first woman crying
sitting next to her preparer.
Somehow having her taxes completed
forces her to re-think
all of the tough times
she faced this past year:
the spousal abuse,
subsequent divorce,
and stalking by an angered male
and his friends.
I don't remember
her income or her taxes.
I just remember her tears.
The second woman comes just
as the first's return is being reviewed.
She lives solely on her supplemental security income
of $674 per month
and is in arrears on property taxes
and other bills
of which she has a shoe box full.
These are my memories
of a tax season coming to an end:
an abused woman forced to relive her abuse
by the simple filing
of an annual tax return
and a poor woman
who struggles to pay for a home
without enough income
to do so.
Memories of
two women.
P.S. A song from Billie Holiday:
Lady sings the Blues
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdCIsMeA8eY&feature=fvwrel
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