Thank you, Elizabeth, not just for sharing these poems now but for capturing the images and feelings when you did, in the midst of all the untethering. Seldom, if ever, has the world been so simultaneously aware of its mortality. I kept working (from home). My husband kept working (in his two-person shop). I remember allowing myself, for the first time, to join a group of women-friends for an outdoor gathering. I was so afraid. My nonegenarian mother was hospitalized for other reasons and subsequently had caregivers coming and going. I waited, everyday, for terrible news. As before Covid, they say another pandemic is likely. We are all looking in the windows, remembering the masks. Your words give voice to our unresolved tensions.
Elizabeth, The Back of the Buddha transports me back to those early days of the pandemic. These lines echo in me like a mantra, a prayer for peace. I think of Julian, the anchoress...all is well and all shall be well...
I kept getting interrupted every time I was trying to spend time with these poems yesterday. Finally this morning I was able to. These are so good. They do bring back those days. I have some poems I wrote then, in the midst of it, and we are changed and we haven't recovered as a society. I can remember the day everything shut down in California. Your poems capture that period in such specific images--the woman pulling her mask down for the dog and the details noticed on walks. We walked so much then.
Thank you so much, LeeAnn. You're right, we haven't recovered, and I'm starting to think that poets and artists will have to be the "social physicians" -- wounded healers, but healers maybe even so -- who help that recovery along. Or at least refuse to stop drawing attention to what needs healing!
To that end ... when/if you're ready to share your own poems from Then, I'm more than ready to read them.
Thank you for sharing these. You have made me brave and I'm going to share a few of my essays from my losses during That Time in the next week or so. It was a time that changed all of us. Some days it feels like we've all moved on and have forgotten. Indeed, we have not forgotten.
Jul 25·edited Jul 25Liked by 26thAvenuePoet (Elizabeth)
Elizabeth, so very excellent for putting into words/feelings that strange time that none of us could ever have been prepared for, even for us introverts who do require some contact. It did change me and I have no idea how but I do know I would not wish it on my worst enemy.
We are changed. We are not who we were in 2020 no matter what your stance on the plague years, and the plague is still with us and changing us even as we speak and write today.
This is incredibly evocative of those times. Brings me right back. I have notes of my own from then. Introverted too.. i think im still affected. My life is now so different. It is actually shocking to think how we've changed.
It is shocking, isn't it? And it seems sometimes as if we, collectively, have scarcely given ourselves a single beat to pause and feel and name all those changes. Poets, at least, can take that beat and do some naming.
This puts me in mind of your musings during Those Days that kept your privileged audience connected with the outside world. A good memory. With deep gratitude.
Oh Elizabeth. I’m so honored. Reading your pandemic poems have helped me so much. I’ve continued to seek out books, movies, and poems that focus on the pandemic because we were so alone, and I feel less alone when I read those perspectives.
These poems have such beauty and weight to them. I found myself rereading each stanza before moving onto the next, wanting to get as much as I could out of each.
So grateful to you, Margaret Ann, for the open-heartedness and the specific-moment-ness (what's that word???) of your poems, and for the way they start so many amazing conversations. And speaking of Covid ... I hope you're feeling better!
So glad you're improving! Please do keep resting as much as you can -- yes, life is exhausting (especially for mothers of six, I'd guess), but post-Covid fatigue is its Own Thing. Ask me how I know.... 🙄
Wonderful poems, Elizabeth. I was also retired and living alone during the pandemic. Sometimes it felt so hard without much human contact but I also live a fairly rural area. .
I loved both poems!
You captured the fears that so dominated that time.
As we change and move on so do the viruses following us everywhere.
Staying positive about the future is a challenge!
Thank you, Elizabeth, not just for sharing these poems now but for capturing the images and feelings when you did, in the midst of all the untethering. Seldom, if ever, has the world been so simultaneously aware of its mortality. I kept working (from home). My husband kept working (in his two-person shop). I remember allowing myself, for the first time, to join a group of women-friends for an outdoor gathering. I was so afraid. My nonegenarian mother was hospitalized for other reasons and subsequently had caregivers coming and going. I waited, everyday, for terrible news. As before Covid, they say another pandemic is likely. We are all looking in the windows, remembering the masks. Your words give voice to our unresolved tensions.
Oh what a time it was.... So many fears. Thank you for remembering it with me, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth, The Back of the Buddha transports me back to those early days of the pandemic. These lines echo in me like a mantra, a prayer for peace. I think of Julian, the anchoress...all is well and all shall be well...
glazed in quiet, pure as porcelain,
in a house in a city of plague.
She lived through it too, bless her. Thank you for bringing Julian's name here, Ann.
I'm grateful to think of a line or two of mine echoing in your heart!
I kept getting interrupted every time I was trying to spend time with these poems yesterday. Finally this morning I was able to. These are so good. They do bring back those days. I have some poems I wrote then, in the midst of it, and we are changed and we haven't recovered as a society. I can remember the day everything shut down in California. Your poems capture that period in such specific images--the woman pulling her mask down for the dog and the details noticed on walks. We walked so much then.
Thank you so much, LeeAnn. You're right, we haven't recovered, and I'm starting to think that poets and artists will have to be the "social physicians" -- wounded healers, but healers maybe even so -- who help that recovery along. Or at least refuse to stop drawing attention to what needs healing!
To that end ... when/if you're ready to share your own poems from Then, I'm more than ready to read them.
Thanks so much, Elizabeth. I think I just use one or two in my post this week.
Oh my goodness. These are wonderful. I especially like The Back of the Buddha. Your bravery inspires.
Thank you, MK!
Thank you for sharing these. You have made me brave and I'm going to share a few of my essays from my losses during That Time in the next week or so. It was a time that changed all of us. Some days it feels like we've all moved on and have forgotten. Indeed, we have not forgotten.
Indeed we haven't. Thanks so much, Michele -- I'm looking forward to reading your essays when you share them.
Elizabeth, so very excellent for putting into words/feelings that strange time that none of us could ever have been prepared for, even for us introverts who do require some contact. It did change me and I have no idea how but I do know I would not wish it on my worst enemy.
Such a strange, frightening time.... Thanks, Wes.
We are changed. We are not who we were in 2020 no matter what your stance on the plague years, and the plague is still with us and changing us even as we speak and write today.
True, true, and true. Thank you for reading and commenting, Paul.
This is incredibly evocative of those times. Brings me right back. I have notes of my own from then. Introverted too.. i think im still affected. My life is now so different. It is actually shocking to think how we've changed.
It is shocking, isn't it? And it seems sometimes as if we, collectively, have scarcely given ourselves a single beat to pause and feel and name all those changes. Poets, at least, can take that beat and do some naming.
This puts me in mind of your musings during Those Days that kept your privileged audience connected with the outside world. A good memory. With deep gratitude.
Oh my goodness, those daily neighborhood gazettes! You'all were kind to receive them, writing them did a lot to help me keep sane.
Oh Elizabeth. I’m so honored. Reading your pandemic poems have helped me so much. I’ve continued to seek out books, movies, and poems that focus on the pandemic because we were so alone, and I feel less alone when I read those perspectives.
These poems have such beauty and weight to them. I found myself rereading each stanza before moving onto the next, wanting to get as much as I could out of each.
So grateful to you, Margaret Ann, for the open-heartedness and the specific-moment-ness (what's that word???) of your poems, and for the way they start so many amazing conversations. And speaking of Covid ... I hope you're feeling better!
💛💛💛
I’m feeling so much better—it’s a blessing. Easily worn out, but who isn’t? 😉
So glad you're improving! Please do keep resting as much as you can -- yes, life is exhausting (especially for mothers of six, I'd guess), but post-Covid fatigue is its Own Thing. Ask me how I know.... 🙄
Ugh. I’m sorry you’ve been through it too 💛.
Nearly a year ago, but I haven't forgotten! Sending you continued getting-better energy.
Wonderful poems, Elizabeth. I was also retired and living alone during the pandemic. Sometimes it felt so hard without much human contact but I also live a fairly rural area. .
It was hard, wasn't it, Pamela? In the country and in the town. I'm glad the poems spoke to you.