A Year and Change

Thirteen months ago we went indoors,
imagining a kind of stasis,
a quick nap from which we would awake
to find the madness over
and the world ready for us to step back into it,
not knowing how long it would take
for our lives to dissolve around us
and reform into a new creation.

Some of us weren’t ready to grow wings yet,
still preferred the known comfort of crawling.
Some of us thought we already had all the wings we needed,
and were eager to keep flying.
Some of us were expecting something else entirely.

All of us will be surprised
when we finally emerge from our cocoons
to find out what we—and the world—have become.

Fascinated

Withdrawn from the world,
I can almost forget
that I long for it,
a gray window
of self-preservation
showing only a haze
of weeks and months,
a monotonous blur
of separation.
Raising my sleeve,
I find my heart hiding,
not on it, but under,
and when I see it,
I remember.
I welcome the sharp pain,
accept the threat,
invite it in,
and make it part of myself.
And in my surrender,
the world, too, opens,
and shines with the colors
of hope and possibility.
I gaze around me
with new eyes of wonder.
I am fascinated.

I'm Okay, You're Okay

I want to reassure
the neighbors
I pass, “It’s okay—
nothing can get in,
or out.”
Gloved and masked,
sunglassed, and
bike helmeted,
I peer out through
my swaddling
like the invisible man,
and I realize
the only thing
left to do
is learn to smile
through my ears.

Walkin’ in Quarantine

[here’s a video of me singing it,
to the tune of I’m Walkin’ by Fats Domino]

Well, I’m walkin’, yes indeed,
but I’m talkin’ ’bout quarantine,
and I’m hopin’
that you’ll stay over there.

I’m lonely as I can be
I’ve been waiting for your company
but I’m hopin’
that you’ll stay over there.

No handshakes and no high fives,
Just gimme a wave if you wanna say hi,
Forgive me if I seem too shy,
I love you, yes, but I don’t wanna die

so keep walkin’, yes indeed,
and keep talkin’, about quarantine
and I promise
that I’ll stay over here.

Palm Sunday in the Time of Covid-19

“I tell you, if these hold their peace,
the very stones would immediately cry out.”
—Luke 19:40

Which Pharisees have rebuked us,
and whether we deserved it,
we may never know,
but we are holding our peace.
Some hold it gingerly, some lovingly,
as though we have never held it before,
or as though we always have.
Our peace teaches us how
it wants to be held.
And in that peace we find
the world whispering to us,
sweet seismological nothings
from the very bones of our planet,
no longer drowned out
by droning self-importance.
The birds rejoice in the spotlight
of our shared sun,
sea turtles bless the beaches
with their eggs and their trust,
and our Mother Earth,
as we don our masks,
slowly pulls her own aside,
beaming through the clearing air.
The song continues
though the singers change,
as together we await a savior,
await the day that our voices
will reunite in the new harmony
that our peace taught us
when we stopped to listen.

The Work-from-Home Triolet

I live my life on Zoom now—
forgive my little rants.
I ought to clean my room now,
since I live on Zoom now,
and you should just assume now
I’m not wearing any pants.
I live my life on Zoom now—
so forgive these little rants.