Inspired by the style of E.E. Cummings

The Indigenous people of North America are being disproportionately affected by COVID-19. Indigenous elders are dying at a rate of 2:1 in comparison to White North Americans.

This poem was inspired by the true lives and stories of the people of Standing Rock and other Indigenous communities.

This poem is commentary based on  a news story about how the people of Japan are turning to plants in seeking comfort during the C-19 pandemic.

*Brighid is the Celtic goddess of poetry, spring, birth, and renewal

**The significance of Chrysanthemums in Japan:

https://www.sacbee.com/entertainment/living/travel/article3326026.html

Currently I work in a private residence with individuals who live with disabilities. Before Covid-19, I worked with these persons in a day program. No day programs are running now, so all staff have been shifted to the participants’ residences. Our people are in need of long-term/lifetime care. There are beautiful moments, and times of struggle. Considering the world zeitgeist of when I’ve posted this, I think we all can use reminders that we’re in this together from time to time. I know I sure need these reminders sometimes.

I dedicated this poem to the memory of one of the people in my program who passed away the year I started my current job. Jon’s favourite sport was hockey, thus the hockey metaphor to finish the poem.

CLP stands for Community Learning Program. We teach people the skills necessary to function to the best of their abilities in society. Stuff like hygiene, or knowing what kinds of clothes are appropriate for the weather, usage of traffic conventions when biking/walking, etc.

A transfer is when someone is moved from one spot to another for rest/exercise/hygiene purpose. We use mechanical lifts for this process.

A lot of the activities and metaphors in this poem are related to real occurrences/hobbies/interests/routines of the people I serve daily.

Pogrom is a word meaning “massacre”. Some days I’ve left work feeling like my day’s been massacred. Especially since Covid started. This has added exponentially more stress into my days. It is unbelievably heartbreaking having to routinely tell one of your residents you can no longer hug her, and watching her weep for hours, no matter how you try to frame the situation for her to understand. Or require people who are already deprived of social connections and social outings to remain sequestered in their rooms because of their being sick.

2020 was one heck of a year for many people. I lost Cleo, the second of two cats who’d been my companions for the last sixteen years of life. She had to be euthanized due to disease and old age.

However, as Cleo left my life, Poe entered in. Poe is my new cat, named after the great American poet, Edgar Allen Poe.

Like his namesake, Poe’s early life has been marred by grievous tragedy. His mother was killed by a car, and the other cats on my aunt’s farm were very unkind to him. I intend to give Poe a good and decent life from now on, as free from tragedy as I may provide. Poe, we are each other’s silver linings in an era of deep sorrow. You are the kiss of life in my hour of strife, O Poe Dearest <3