“We don’t know
what we’re doing next,”
they said.
“Just expect
that you’ll catch the virus,
so leave instructions at your desk.
“There may be no one
to cover your job;
sorry about that.
“Don’t let uncertainty (or fear of death)
dull your passion
for the work.
“We so appreciate
everything
you do.
“Don’t worry, just relax;
what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.”
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(This is a triversen poem. Each stanza is three lines that make a complete sentence)
Beneath the rock slide
I lie gasping.
So many stones squashing
the life out of me,
Covid, isolation, tension,
anxiety in others,
illness, recent deaths,
responsibility, each a
pebble piled
until breathing seems
an impossibility.
Where is the safety crew
to clear the debris
so we can be well,
be free of despair,
be who we used
to be.
Daily countdown
Five days
Four days
Three days (Hump day!)
Two days!
Six hours!
Four hours!
Two hours!
Home at last
Collapse
Sleep ten hours
Twelve hours.
Fourteen hours.
Early to bed.
Sunday- recovery!
Look around
enjoy the sun
deal with chores
Early to bed
Ten hours
’til it starts again.
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NaPoWriMo day 24. Has anyone found themselve just completely exhausted over the last year? Between brain injury recovery, three family deaths, and the stress of increase in Covid cases and dangerous variants (and positive cases in kids within the local school system…) I don’t think I’ve ever had as hard a year. How about you?
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ignore ads following
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Outside the window
new green
We walk by in masks
waiting for vaccine
Spring is a time
for hope
Another year on a
slippery slope.
Daffodils bursting
from the soil
Politics and a pandemic
embroiled
Breathe.
Take care.
We’re almost
there.
.
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NaPoWriMo Day 22 A little contrast between the hope of spring and the stress of rising numbers of infected folks, including a friend.
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(ignore ads following)
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One voice shrill above the babble:
WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!
Oh girl,
I hear you.
What’s happening, indeed.
How do we hold our pieces together?
*buy string
*wrap a reminder around my finger: “it will be okay”
*send a card: Thinking of you
*put on makeup
*video call
*write a poem
*read a book
*have a nap
*roll in blankets with the dog
*sing loudly to the radio
*hunt for daffodils
*listen to the chickadees
*fill the feeder, black oil sunflowers are their favourite.
*be gentle with myself when I inevitably
*fall apart
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Today’s NoPoWriMo prompt is to write a To Do list.
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Oh, yeah.
I used to gleam.
Shining sparkling day-glo shimmer
You know what I mean?
But Covid, man.
It’s worn me out.
Dulled my bright-light
What’s this exhaustion about?
It’s just going to work,
same as before
Just wearing a mask
washing hands, washing hands, and washing some more.
What’s so tiring about that?
I have absolutely no clue
But I’m heading to bed now at dinner time.
How are you?
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#NaPoWriMo Day 1. The official prompt from napowrimo.net was a video that triggered my TBI sensory over-load so I couldn’t watch it. 
I’ve come home from work, and again it’s not even 6 p.m. and I’m ready to crawl into bed with an eye mask, a heating pad, and an audio book. I can’t believe how exhausted I am all the time now! How’s a girl supposed to get poetry written, let alone books and stories! Arg. I hope you’re feeling less exhausted.
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Ignore any ads below. Unless they’re for Fluevog shoes, I don’t endorse them!
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Those best laid plans
family coming from afar
creating traditions, warm hearts,
remembering those lost this year.
Everything is ready here, gifts piled up
waiting for wrapping.
Public health says stay home.
We must be lonely holiday islands.
There’s no time for parcels to arrive by the
assigned festive day
amid the mail delivery crisis.
No one to gather around our table.
So everything will be different.
We must make something new, a Zoom festivity?
Re-thinking that nativity when a stable had to do,
just like for the Holy Family, things don’t always go
according to
our best laid plans.
in the story I read
every family was the same
and every person took off their mask
of sameness at the end of the day.
.
in the story we’re living
every family’s struggle’s different
we put on our masks each day
to save each other
This is not the year
for adventurous rambling
for party-down fun
for braving new experiences
for exploring new ideas
This is the year
for settling in
for warming up
for holding close
for safe hidey holes from which
to weather the barrage.
too much new
tensions wrapping around psyches
tugging
we’re choking on the changes
fruitlessly fearful
waiting for someone to hear us
Relief.
A sensible plan
Workable ideas
Deep breath.
This might just work
Shawn L. Bird 