Thursday, April 30, 2020

Normalcy

My daughter doesn't know it's quarantine;
She's never known a world that wasn't so.
We are the only faces she has seen
And for a while we're all she'll ever know.
She knows the sun from windows, mostly, though
By our good fortune, we possess a yard
And so we go outside. But she will grow
Fearful of others--even (this is hard)
Her own grandparents. Everything is marred
By COVID. She ought to be with people, but
The people are the threat from which we guard.
She's learning things--but I can't be sure what
And every day I worry she'll be sure
That this is normal, even with a cure.

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Liberate

I would rather be sick of staying home
Than sick of anything else. I do not get
Why people will insist that they must roam
Despite the danger, and I am upset
That they ignore the way that they impact
Everyone around them. Liberty
Is not just being free to always act
Exactly as we wish. Society
Exists. We live in it. So act like it.
Don't make this about only you: we all
Share risks, and that means when you choose to flit
From place to place, the danger doesn't fall
On you alone. It's selfish to pretend
It's somehow safe for this to untimely end.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

Collateral

The virus on its own would be enough
To kill some thousands, maybe millions more;
We like to think society is tough
But it was worse than we believed before,
So famines, poverty, and lack of care
Will do more damage than the virus will.
The virus is still spreading everywhere
And yet already we cannot refill
Our meager stock of just in time supplies.
Our hospitals engorge, we hoard, we act
Like all of this was somehow a surprise:
The details were, but we knew for a fact
Something like this could happen. When it did
We didn't plan, but closed our eyes and hid.

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Empty

I thought that I had things to do.
I really did. So I made time.
But when the time came, then I knew
That it was nothing. And now I'm
Standing here completely bored.
I could find things to do, I think.
The world I'm in must still afford
Activities. And yet I sink
Into the couch and do not stir
For hours, playing on my phone.
In honesty I don't prefer
To do this even when alone
And yet I do. I am inert
Because I failed to self-divert.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Pandemic Life

I'm always worried now. And you are too.
I see it in the hunching of your back,
The way your fingers, with nothing to do,
Insist on moving; how you sometimes crack
The knuckles on one hand; the little itch
That shows up underneath your nose. I see
Because I feel it too. My muscles twitch
With endless unnecessary energy.
I cannot seem to turn my mind off or
To silence all my stressors. I can't sleep
And when I don't it makes me worry more.
So stress on stress builds up leap after leap.
I wish I could take all of it. But no; 
If I did that, your stress would just regrow.

Sunday, April 12, 2020

Why We Remove The Wine

The Pesach wonder isn't that we fled
The land of slavery, or that as we sprinted,
Our knapsacks full of almost risen bread,
We actually escaped, or that God imprinted
Our people with a duty at Sinai.
It isn't manna falling from the sky.
It's that, after nine plagues that struck us all
Blood in the river, frogs on everyone,
Boils and locusts, lice and hail, the fall
Of sudden darkness cutting off the sun,
The dying cattle, flies in hordes unknown,
We huddled in our houses as death flew
Past blood-soaked lintels, and we heard the groan
That said we'd been passed over as he slew.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

Friendly Advice Based on a Reading of the Gospels

Don't rush Easter. It's a Sunday thing;
And even then, it's rushed a little bit.
The prophecies to which he's said to fit
Claimed the third day; for three you have to wring
Every last bit of Saturday, and swing
A little Friday and a little Sunday. Sit
Today in silence, knowing that he will commit
The harrowing of hell. Tomorrow you can sing
Hallelujah, praise God; but today
Live in the moment, with him in the grave
The rock not yet pulled back. The women cry,
The men wander directionless and say
"What was the point of this?" Don't try to waive
The stretch of time when Jesus meant to die.

Friday, April 10, 2020

All The Devils Are Here

I do not yet feel welcomed into hell;
But that makes sense. It's not that kind of place.
They don't intend to treat or feed me well
So welcome parties are a waste of space.
For some, I might suppose, it would be right
To feast them on their sin-induced descent:
The introverts, who would be put to flight,
Are those for whom the welcome mat is meant.
For those of us who loved our company
Their absence rocks us, as it is intended;
We enter hell despairing lonelily,
Thus mirroring the way all life is ended.
Sisyphus fought forever with a stone
But some of us just fight a death alone.

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

An Open Letter to My Senator, Chuck Grassley, On The Event of The Pandemic


I hope you realize what you have done
But I don’t think you do. You write me still
As if I trusted you. But anyone
Who paid any attention to you will
Be well aware you earned my lack of trust.
I wrote you—often—with the futile hope
My word would make you (surely something must)
Recognize the sliding slippery slope
Of your hypocrisy. You used to seem
Honest and principled, if still wrong-headed;
But I have found that honesty a dream
The principles only in use when wedded
To power politics. You had your chance
But voted for these deaths well in advance.