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8.20.20 - Pandemic Sonnet #1

Hot rain pounded on square, concrete tombs
Our opinions overrode data, famous last words
For single-pained souls across a gasping globe
In empty classrooms, ghosts talked to screens
Smiled and pretended that everything was clean
Science toiled cures, scrubs-clad martyrs screamed
Scholars silenced, pleaded safety not guaranteed
Wise words twisted, gathering dust on toxic pulpits
Whilst pious, fat hypocrites proudly flouted lessons writ
In their treasured, leatherbound, ancient moral scripts
Pride becameth Fall for faithless worshipping a Con’s greed
Falsely-winged devout demanded sacrifice, so blinded
They offered up children to a righteous Death Cult idol
Blame for self-evident sins falls upon poisoned, Holy men

*notes and such
Two lines I liked but couldn’t figure out how to tweak and use. I still think this needs some re-arranging, but it needs to get out of my head for a while.

Omens in six-foot deep ends justified by green means
Foreshadowed in testing, autopsies backdated two weeks,


5.4.20 - #coronavirus2020 VIII

I miss my wife. I hate it when she’s gone.
Sounds like the lines of a country-western song.
She’s on the road with the girl, again. I’m alone
On the couch, eating feelings and worrying about
All that might go wrong. Even the dog is gone.
Before she left, she hugged me tight and whispered,
“I promise to keep this marriage safe.”
Even though I don’t want to, I wonder,
The inner demons start to play
I worry that she’d rather be in other company
Though she’s the one who begged me to stay.
I want to believe her so bad, I need to
What other choice do I have?
I love her, let her lie, let her go, live a lie?
We hope for something better to grow
Dressed the wounds and sank down below
Layers of sheets and tree, fog and breeze
Even if it hurts, even if it’s the worst outcome
Of a million ways I can see our story going
At least for me, it was worth it to know
Love deep enough to get hurt, live through it
Do no wrong, try to pass no judgment
Tell them you love them, though the hurt shows
Be a better man, do the best you can
Let them know you love them, every time they go.

Anyone else scared out of their mind about how bad it’s gonna be by June? Asian killer bees, a likely explosion of pandemic cases in Georgia. People out like everything’s fine, not wearing masks. In a few weeks… Jesus. It worries me. Seems like the worst possible sci-fi plot.

I think my money is now on “Rushed Vaccine Causes Zombification,” at this point. Or we go to war with China over the lie of who manufactured the virus? That puts the Red Dawn scenario at play. But I’m lucky, able to arm-chair speculate from the relative safety of a back porch. Crickets are in the background. Some people aren’t so lucky. The virus is ravaging minorities at a savagely disproportionate rate, evidence of a medical system in need of desperate and complete reform.

Maybe it’s the fatalist in me, but I’m trying to make sure I tell my family I love them. Even when things hurt. Even when they hurt.

4.2.20 - #corona2020 VI

Points of light share their grace in the dead of night
A backyard porch and empty streets, lonely cries
Asking stars if they’ve witnessed this story before
Have wonderous other worlds survived these plights
Are they twinkling to bless us with rays of hope
Telling us to hold tight, everything will be alright

I’m exhausted. First one to admit that I haven’t been sleeping. I haven’t been writing the past few days. We’re all struggling on the inside in these long, silent days. Filling the time with the things we probably would have done anyway, but gravity seems heavier on our shoulders now. We’re lucky, so far. My income is still stable for now, but we’ve taken a hit. Every trip to the grocery store, I’m wondering if I should bring a mask. I don’t have a good one yet, and I keep my distance. The lines are long, the toiletries are gone.
J has had to sleep on the couch to keep the triggers from being bad, something we’re hoping the new scripts take care of. But the adjustment is awful. My own scripts… I don’t know how well they’re working. Still takes me forever to fall asleep, even in bed. I don’t know if it’s a comfort or a shared sadness that I know I’m not the only one.
So I turn on an app that plays the sounds of rain and storms. I miss her, it sucks sleeping alone.
A year ago, I took the bandages off the staples in my knee, after the blowout. I posted a recovery picture and thought maybe put it here, because why not. I’m still writing, I’ll get back to it. Between GR and Robyn (still need a better title), I’ve got plenty I can do.
Yoga, elastic bands, and the recumbent bike have helped, but I haven’t done it consistently.

Lookout, the picture is kind of brutal. I’ve probably got 60% of function back, but the strength is just… gone. 30 pounds of weight loss probably included a lot of atrophy. Hopefully this year is the year I get the strength back.