The way news picture our world today looks concerning. Covid-19 has infected our brains and economy with long lasting effects. As an adept of a calm, well-weighed, balanced approach, I refuse to contribute to the overall noise, paranoia and panic.

I understand why people get caught into this snowball effect of very negative ways of dealing with what constitutes a global concern. But crushing under the weight of fear doesn’t help.

Inspired by this, I wrote a poem.

Yes, a poem, reflection, love and space to breathe feel like the best ways to deal with difficult matters. When you cannot revert or change these matters through short term actions, a poem contributes to the long term healing perspective.

co-v(o)id-2020

and so it begins

good intentions paint eyelids over every socket gaped
to grasp a view over shared
fields of thought
– they have yet to become
fields of blood covered shit –

here
a stretched out hand values nothing more
than the profit it can be weighed against
chop it up one finger at a time
certify the value of every nail
against a promise of friendship regurgitated
over yesterday’s cake
one layer spongy inception
one layer brittle conclusion
with a filling of broken skulls

all it takes is
one wave of grunting silence
over one vexing knee jerk
to release this army of jaws
growl chomp chomp howl
this land will be great again
all it needs is a few gods to fill the emptiness
a few supreme priests to express the will
to choose whom to sacrifice
for everybody’s peace and quiet

at least for a while

but they forget
the moment before bone breaking silence
when all stood tall in sharp light
common hum from one tongue to the other
they buried all paper birds once strung from this window to the next
anger darkened the water they drank
turning insides into scolding tar

here lies our last best hope
disjointed parts left behind in a hurry
to save one’s invaluable neck at all costs
there is no other happiness than having one’s cup full
somebody’s got to lose for another to gain

here lies our last best hope
under a stockpile of toilet paper

play this symphony through all the cracks in your system
until you become your own black hole

who knows what lies at the other end