A record of these days
This is a post that’s for folks who were in the writing group this evening to post their writing to! We wrote in response to Brendan Constantine’s poem “The Needs of the Many” about these days. If you missed it, there are more! Here’s the link to the list. Oh my gosh you will love it.
Here’s mine:
On the days when we stayed home, we dreamed more that we were used to, woke disoriented into a day just like yesterday, into nowhere to rush to. We called our mothers, had coffee over video. The people we used to love called us an showed us their scars and bless us, we loved them again: the fragility, the human-ness. We forgot to ignore our bodies. These days, when we touched elevator buttons, we recoiled in shame. Felt the tip of our fingers glow with the heat of a virus. On these days we cursed our pores, covered our nostrils, didn’t have to lie to stay home. Made do. Ate what we had. Felt sorry for ourselves. Told ourselves it would be okay. Didn’t quite believe it. Wondered if we were dreaming. On these days, we said sorry less, but meant it when we did.
6 Responses
Hi Seema! I loved this workshop. Here is my poem:
By April, we needed the people we thought we didn’t want anymore. We inhaled our sour pride and made it known.
We dialed our grandmas and our teachers. Just saying thanks, (and I never knew how much I needed you). We either bought things we didn’t need or didn’t buy things we did. We traded our neighbor an orange for an onion, and who knew those borrowed fajitas could taste so delicious.
We called our friends with babies on the way, our smiling faces pressed to the liquid crystal of the waiting room. We died in different rooms.
We picked things up right where we left off, four years, three months, seventeen days ago. We finished things we wished there could be more of.
Marissa! So glad to have met you tonight. Hope to see you a lot more!
On these days we were scared in our homes
Afraid of something we could not see.
We watched the news and looked at the stats
To see the toll it took on the world.
On these days texts were just not enough
Calls allowed us to somewhat connect.
We didn’t hug, shake hands, or embrace
We used our best smiles to relate.
On these days we were told to stay home
And only to leave for the groceries.
We didn’t commute and worked from home
Time went by and we waited for hope.
On these days the world shared one thing
A quiet connected solitude.
We all were hurting and our hearts ached
Every nation overwhelmed with grief.
On these days the world came together
And individually we came apart.
We tried to keep six-feet of distance
And rely on the embrace of the couch.
“On these days the world shared one thing…” So good. Thanks Kim.
Thank you so much. I love this, and you.
This week I spent making an effort to communicate with people outside my home. I recently moved to the city with the goal of pulling myself out of isolation. This has been met with a global pandemic, which at sometimes feels personal.
This week I spent making it personal. Allowing myself to sleep among the laundry not yet folded, feeling the bare mattress, and not caring enough to pull a newly cleaned sheet out.
This week allowed my dog to cry out of boredom, relieving his captivity only when absolutely necessary.
This week I allowed it to be personal.
During the first days of the pandemic we mocked its severity. Grimacing at other country’s misfortune. We felt safe, distant from a shared experience.
During the first days of domestic cases we sighed with relief. Saying, “at least it is on the other shore.” We still felt protected, beginning to worship distance.
During the first days we were ordered home we discovered our infrastructure would never be enough to host all of us. We felt suspended in time, loathing distance.