etchings of my day...

Nothing amazing, nothing concreted, just thoughts mixed with feelings about my head space at work.
My desk
19 folders, 19 separate numbers sitting upon my desk.
19 lives, all moving in spaces of their own.
Homelessness, methadone, trauma, depression, guilt
All labels attached to names
19 lives just sitting here, but living… somewhere.

Can I care for 19? Can I care for 1?
Is there space in my life for 19 new stories?
Pain, guilt and loss
What do I do with 19 folders/ stories/ people?
Can I lock them again in my draw tonight, without second thought?
Can I lock them away to silence them?
Can I move into a little space of my own and forget the significance of their story?
Should I?...