Positively a Crisis On my screen the headlines blare, glaring out to the world that 50 more are dead. Who knows how many have it? This silent deadly killer that creeps around our spaces invisible, holding out its weapon to our chests without us knowing. Stay inside, save lives is what we are told. Isolated and separated we are more united than ever. Clapping for those on the frontline, our soldiers dressed in blue, forced and volunteered to fight the invisible, tiny enemy that infiltrates our bodies. They march into the unknown for us because our Country needs them. There are People around the world dying, and yet I feel so much loss. Loss for my normal life, I guess. Loss for the ability to go out, loss for a time gone by that may never be the same – will we still shake hands once this is all over? The germs! Will we live like hermits tucked away facing our computer screens for communication still? Much safer I suppose but it’s not for me. I crave to see my fellow humans face to face again. I crave not to see everyone in their own homes again – what was that they had on their bookshelf? I like my home to be my own sometimes. And for others’ homes to be their own too. Outside these four walls is a killer on the loose and yet the sun beams down, soaking my skin with no danger to be seen. No bombs dropped; no gun shots fired no alarm bells raging. Its silent. Its peaceful. The birds chirp, singing their songs of peace. They cluster together still. Our homes have become our prisons. We have become the harbourers of the enemy. In us it could lie waiting to pounce on us or on others. So, we stay locked up in our own comfort but never cowering. We stand all together this way to face it head on when our eyes are opened. Outside the sun still rises and sets each day, the moon glides over the sky, thousands of stars overhead shine in the darkness – from here only dots in a pool of black but up there they are hot, powerful and burning. Perspective is a funny thing. Then they fade from our view and the next day begins. We will get through this says the Queen. And I believe we will somehow because side by side we stand ready to pounce back.
Poetry
POETRY COLLECTION: The End is Nigh?
Poetry
The End is Nigh? The end Is the only thing we know for sure. That this journey, long or short Will end, abruptly or begrudgingly Yet we fear it so. We don’t know the answers of when or how We only know will So, when crisis comes knocking on the door Blazing on screens Flashing images etched into your brain that The end is nigh Fear comes creeping from its cave to see What it longs for so desperately To keep you up at night, Keep you in all snug and tight To put your life on hold for a might. Scaremongering creatures the flashing images can be They take many forms turning you into a scurrying creature too Hiding out like squirrels With you stash stockpiled Survival for the cold, dark, long winter The bright, beautiful, glistening winter.
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A POETRY COLLECTION: In This Time
PoetryIn these times of rapid change, uncertainty and unprecedented crises people have united and divided. Next week in England shops will begin reopening again and with them a moment in time comes to a close. With this in mind, I am releasing a poem a day, each one my responses to the times as they unfolded- beginning right back to March as lockdown was about to begin to the present moments of anger and injustice.
This first poem is a bit of an introduction to these moments.
In This Time
In this time
We all say that we are fine
But our lives are put on hold
And we seem so unnaturally cold,
Pushing each other away physically
yet coming together mentally.
In this time
The clock mimes
But we don't know what day
It is any longer - Monday?
What happened to our dreaded day
now just like a Sunday
Every day easy like it
But is it?
In this time
Time ticks by;
the bees buzz and fly
the roses bloom and fall
the sun blazes and flares
the sky blue and full.
In this time
time moves on
And it is all fine.
