Pandemic Poem #1 / We Turn To Art

We’re living through a global pandemic. I don’t know what that will mean, but as always, I turn to writing to make sense of everything. So, I have invited myself to write a poem a day. Posted right here, until right here is not where I have to be anymore.

I’m lucky. I have a government pension and don’t rely on casual work so I’m able to practice severe social distancing. My kids and I are home together for the foreseeable future. The only reason I have to leave the house is for more food.

My heart goes out to all of you still going to work because you have no choice, or who’ve lost your jobs because you have no choice. If I can help in any way, let me know. Keep in touch, reach out via a comment or PM or email or call me. I’m here and happy to chat to you.

What will I do? Write, of course. But also cook, make cubby houses, read stories, teach maths, eat at pretend cafes, paint faces, bounce on the trampoline, water plants, go for walks, make films, take photos, turn compost, sing and dance…

We Turn to Art
We wash our hands in time to iambic pentameter
And the books on our shelves are a lover to lie next to.
Washing lines strung from city balconies become staves and 
And rising cadences massage the tension from our shoulders.
Reruns of sitcoms and biting satires
Ignite the laughter that electrifies us like a first kiss
Dusty photo albums and stories of family past
Make blanket forts that envelop us like a mother’s embrace.


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