Certain things cannot be stopped and are bound to happen
Taking place right now
Is a virus that will either settle and disappear
Or take every living soul to a place which we all fear
But the road is clear
Stay strong and survive
Be smart and move wise
Think clear and improvise
For it was a sudden hit upon mankind
But stick together
And we shall overcome and strive
can you believe all the little things that had to happen for us to meet?
every step, every breath i took to find you.
i don't believe in fate.
can you believe all the little things that had to happen for us to be torn apart?
it started with a bat and ended in a pandemic.
i don't believe in fate.
Six-feet between me and
forty-six vignettes of adventurous times.
The slick, shiny gloss used to put a sheen
on moments made for smiling.
Now, ancient beaches and haunting deserts,
where my footprints are planted,
are a dream I fight to remember
after the alarm sounds.
Aches for lost chances of overpriced
and shared glances with strangers
seem to slowly construct "fun's" obituary
on the bored corners of my mind.
But I wait, six-feet away,
to relive it all anyway.
Six-feet between me and some one-hour photos.
Six-feet between me and a graveyard of freedoms.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2020
It is said that "the greatest discovery that humans
made was Language."
It was really a shocking thing to read that quote,
because at first, it sounds trifle.
But giving it a second thought one feels the gravity.
How will you express you are hungry?
by rubbing tummy? gesturing to mouth?
but there are the infinite meaning of every gesture.
No new thoughts to offer today,
My mind is drying up living in this room.
I go out to buy milk for five minutes,
and again back to the room.
How senile life has become.
But analysing this stop that Nature has forced upon us,
It is making up for another thirty or forty years,
We were reckless before, now confined in a room realizing
the little things that we didn't appreciate and checked on,
The spendthrift hand devouring the limited resources,
is now caged in-home hands tied.
Still, some will never change. As soon as this will be over
We will again repeat the same old mistakes.
We are slave to our habits.
Yesterday I wrote a paragraph on "dying of Poetry"
Now I see it as a paradox.
I am here, which is meant for poetry,
Writing a rant.
Sometimes we are wholly unable to see the both sides
of a coin.
What can I even love to save me?
Everything is slipping away from me
Nothing and no one loves me back or enough
To save my doomed soul
My suicide won't be from my hands
For we are not yet there, you know,
although it seems like months have passed
we've got another mile to go
and then one more, one more... at last
upon some distant future day
we'll reach the place where we can say:
"We did it! Now we have arrived!
And most of us are still alive
after silent passages
through the tedium of time
alone." We'll dwell in warmer climes
after long March ravages.
But first slow April's patient flowers
must bloom and bend within their bowers.
Alludes to the "Long March" disaster that forms part of the mythology of the modern Chinese dictatorship. Also alludes to the opening of "The Waste Land" (and by implication, "Canterbury Tales") although obviously much more hopeful in theme than Eliot's great work.
It’s okay to be afraid
To grieve the plans that you had made.
It’s just fine to get frustrated, cooped up, fed-up, irritated.
It’s quite valid to feel sad
When all around you seems so mad.
It’s alright to share your fears, your doubts, your disappointments, tears.
I know a virtual hug does nought
To comfort you when overwrought.
The platitudes seem never-ending;
Don’t begin to start the mending.
Only time will see us heal
And our futures will reveal
How we began to value life; when this pandemic brought us strife.
despite the danger ahead of them,
they still choose to—
risk their lives to make sure others are breathing.
stay outside of their homes to comfort the distressed.
work tirelessly to serve the vulnerable who needs their service.
to the frontliners,
we sincerely appreciate your heroism.
we are grateful for all that you do
for our country.
we are in awe of your selfless service.
you are indeed our heroes.
the world needs more people like you.
thank you for existing.
Solitude, Bruiting, Un-trusting
Being alone isn't a bad.
Feeling lonely is the worst.
most of your life
No one to talk to.
Annoying, Pestering, Nagging
But now . . .
. . . they are alone . . .
. . . all they want to do is talk . . .
. . . your social status sky rockets.
Social Distancing, Quarantine, Survival
When it's over,
It will all revert
I hope not.