Infectious thoughts (Poem)

In the small corner of my office where I sit and hide, hoping words fall on my page,
I see the sun is shining from the confines of my cage.
I lift my weary arms to type, but don’t really see the use
When the world’s alight with chaos, the toll of many years’ abuse.
I try to write a story, to leave reality behind,
But deep inside I know there’s more sinister things on my mind.
Will I be around to see my daughter grow?
Will I see my friends and family again? Does my husband know
How much I love him?
And does it really matter?

It’s time to reflect on how God laughs at our plans
How we think we are superior
But yet this intense suffering was caused by man.
Did we ever have tomorrow?
It was never guaranteed.
Here is merely a reminder
Of what we really need.

We need love, hugs, and companionship,
A roof over our head,
Access to basic sanitation
To be warm, dressed and fed.
We don’t need the big house
Or to have two cars in the drive,
Not when the main goal is now
Simply to survive.

 

And if we are so privileged
To be here when it ends,
What will remain are memories
Of long chats with our friends.
But it’s dangerous to trivialise
And paint over all the cracks
When an even more insidious illness
Will no vaccine ever hack.

 

That voice inside our head –
The one that loses hope,
The one that says we’re better dead
And then hands you the rope.
That voice poses as a friend
But will not hush until you end
The voice, or your life –
I hope you find the energy to fight.

 

And if you feel overwhelmed
Take things day by day,
Allow yourself to shout and cry,
To feel anger and dismay.
Embrace the disappointment
Of all that won’t now be.
When will this be over?
We’ll have to wait and see.

 

And so I take this opportunity
To thank each and every friend
For their companionship, love and thoughtfulness
And I promise when this ends
Never again shall I take for granted
Your chats and your embraces,
But for now, try to keep a smile
Upon your worried faces.
Because fear is infectious too
It paralyses to the core.
We only ever had today:
It was true then, is true now, and will be the case evermore.

Mother Writer

Invisibly she sits
In the cocoon of her own home
Every day, alone
Churning out her little poems.
As a child she played writer
Imagining awards and trophies,
Never thinking for a second she’d
Be isolated and alone.

She looks outside her window
At the suits rushing to work,
Children on the bus
Wearing the garb of their school.
They all look the same,
And at first glance one couldn’t
Distinguish them by name.
The men in grey suits drive past
In their shiny, new cars –
Symbols of success –
They have made it far –
While she huddles into the safety
Of her oversized dressing gown;
She huddles into it so fiercely that
Within it she may drown.
She lowers her head into the robe
Hoping that they can’t see
And then her keyboard rages against the silence
Of perfect domesticity.

She lays the words before her,
Hesitant but proud,
The freedom to say these dangerous things
That she’d never say out loud.
But now, she feels pathetic –
She feels tired, and weak.
These words floating before her
Are not only hers,
But also belong to
Those who cannot speak.
She saves them in a Word file
Never to be seen
Far too dangerous to be unleashed –
People are far too mean.

What she shares is softer
Without the anger and the spite –
People take personally everything she writes.
They tell her she’s a natural
And should write for the paper
Ignoring that she has no time
For this publishing caper.

Because unfortunately, when day is spent
And the kids are tucked up in bed
She doesn’t have the energy
To wrestle within her head.
Instead she packs the lunches,
And closes her eyes to sleep.
These kids won’t stay young forever
And so, for now, these words can keep.

Kids Today

Two months ago, how would we have described the kids of today?

The word ‘snowflake’ was bandied around an awful lot.

They probably had no empathy for others.

They spend too much time on their tablets and not enough time outside.

They were selfish and obsessed with material goods. Always wanting more. More toys, more technology, more games.

And now we find ourselves in the middle of a global pandemic, the biggest threat many of us have faced in the history of our existence.

School and extra-curricular activities cancelled. No visits to play centres, not even to our local playground. We cannot even visit aunts, uncles, grandparents or friends. No more playdates or day trips.

In the midst of it all, it is the kids, not the adults, who are coping so well.

They are using their tablets to keep in touch with each other, and have learned quickly how to use technology to host group calls  (I’m now only becoming used to Zoom calls). They watch YouTube for inspiration for art projects.

With no busy schedules, they have to spend more time at home, maybe picking up books that they otherwise would have had no time to read.

They use Google to learn about animals, other countries, famous people.

They want to help. They make cards for the frontline staff. They write letters to nurses thanking them.

Of course, sometimes they play games on their tablets. Maybe for longer than they should. And that’s ok too.

They are learning about the emotions that our generation of parents have been accused of shielding them from for too long. Sadness. Disappointment, Anger. Loss. We cannot give them everything they want, and they are learning to cope with that.

We are no longer raising the snowflake generation. We’re raising the generation of children who will change their world through kindness, empathy, understanding and compassion. We’re raising a generation who understand that physical and mental health must go hand in hand. We’re raising the generation that one day will make the world a better place.

And in fact, they already do. And I for one am very proud.