Pandemic Poem #32 / View From My Desk

I’ve been in a funk lately (haven’t we all?).

I was feeling exhausted and lonely and like my life is just an amorphous blob of time with endless ways to fill it, none of which seem more compelling than watching Glee on Netflix.

I sent in my application for divorce last week and most of my big recent creative projects are done and dusted. I have no work to go to. I have care of my kids 24/7. ⁠⁠It’s tiring and boring. Anyway, I feel like I’ve turned a corner this week. Thanks me.

I’m strong and resilient and fucking amazing. ⁠⁠I made a schedule for each day which includes writing, exercise and other activities. I’m working with my Dad to completely renovate my front yard. And yesterday I met remotely with Ellen May for some 1:1 some support over the next month.

I wrote this poem the other day, while sitting at my desk and playing around with come coloured pencils to get the juices flowing.

View From My Desk
The grass I planted with my daughter
In a miniature fairy tower
Is sprouting
And I’m sorry (I ain’t sorry)
For the sense of urgency
The smell of mint
Tendrils of desp(air)eration
Mix on shuffle
Maybe the universe will choose a song to soothe me
From the songs I chose myself
That’s self-love
Doing things future me will thank me for
Beat/Clap
Beat/HEY!
Beat/Step
Beat/YEAH!

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