Over the past 8 days I have been publishing poems relating to the crises around Lockdown, the pandemic and the protests. Today’s poem was written pre lockdown- a reminder that crisis is not an exceptional event but a daily one as we constantly strive for a better world.
In these times of rapid change, uncertainty and unprecedented crises people have united and divided. Today, in England, shops will begin reopening again and with them a moment in time comes to a close. With this in mind, I have been 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 is the eighth poem in the ‘In This Time’ collection and the second half of the poems titled ‘The Window’ as my feelings toward this time change – each one marking a beginning and an ending.
The Window #2 I look out The Window; the portal to the outside world. A temptation. And a reminder that out of these four walls Light spurts out of the dark and heavy cloud, warming the yearning face. Open. Cold. Fresh. Free. The aftermath falls, releasing their clutches from the leaves and branches. Collapsing on the floor with their comrades. Exploding together with the splash like a record scratch, bouncing like the needle with a breath, an expansion, into music. I look outside my window And the storm calms down.
In these times of rapid change, uncertainty and unprecedented crises people have united and divided. Tomorrow (15th) 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 is the seventh poem in the ‘In This Time Collection’ and the second half of the poems about protest. Written at the beginning of this new wave of activism, this is important over this weekend as protests continue in London.
Protest #2 Anger into hate Anger into Love People stood in opposition People stood together Championing what is right. Stood with a sign Do you know the full story Stood with a sign What is the history Stood with a sign This isn't a trend No excuse for fire with fire Set the example you wish to lead for others to follow Prejudice is age old Prejudgement. Stereotype. Lets break it down. Set a new one. Take down the wall. Brick by brick. Love by Love. Change by Change.
Normality Its all too much And yet There is nothing. Life And its freedoms Struck still. And I do not know when the play button will be pressed again. When will normal resume? Or will it forever be buried, put away in a tomb? And new 'normals' be born at the break of dawn when are shackles are broken when we feel safe and free in a fearful yet hopeful divided yet united angry yet liberated distant yet closer new normal world.
What matters to you? and Most importantly, Why? Can you back up what you believe? Can you look in yourself and see them- A reflection of your beliefs in your vast ocean Crashing against the shore or Lapping against the sand
The Window #1 I look Outside my window And there Is no change I look At the images blaring On the screen In the corner It tells me of panic. Of a crisis. Of death lurking In the corner But outside My window The sun smiles down And there are twittering gatherings In the trees. A chorus of sound and silence.
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.