There's a pandemic,
and the shelves of my pantry
are stocked with rice and legumes.
In the event of an apolcalypse,
I will survive for a while,
to be further horrified by
our resistance to evolving.
There's a pandemic,
and days go slowly,
yet weeks and months gallop by.
My whole being has slowed
into a pace well suited
to my time of life:
leisurely mornings,
putting off domestic chores
till that eternal tomorrow,
maybe a sweet walk
through early spring,
a classic movie in the afternoon.
If a poem pops up,
that's a bonus.
There's a pandemic, and,
after a year of marching in place,
wearing our masks,
washing our hands,
we have adapted into cautious beings.
Now the variants are mobilizing,
the vaccine racing it
to see which reaches the most hosts.
There's a pandemic,
and nothing is promised.
We enjoy the days we have,
blessedly free of illness,
so far,
waiting for the needle
that will give us some sense
of relief and safety.
The 90 year olds are being seen
this week, and I am only 74.
The italicized line is from the poem "Poem I Wrote After I Asked You if Cereal Can Expire" by Catherine Cohen.
A year later and we are still in a pandemic. Waiting to turn the corner of this darkness.
ReplyDeletenote: At least a year later we don't have to scramble for toilet paper.
One thing the pandemic hasn't done is - it hasn't taught us patience.
ReplyDeleteI'm 74 too. I wait impatiently as I've waited all year for some relief. Hope you get yours soon. I keep getting notices reminding me that New Mexico is great at vaccine distribution but I'm still on a waiting list.
So true that days go slowly but months go galloping by. We really have lived through a different kind of time, haven't we? Who would have known one year ago what we were in for!! Hope you get the vaccine soon.
ReplyDelete