Everything has stopped
Except our beating hearts
This fear, anxiety
Dread
To curtail viral spread
Those things by which we
Often measure passing time
Are gone
Birthday parties, Easter family dinners
Clubs, days out, hanging with friends
Forbidden
Passover is still kept
But changed and
Separately
Oh for a cultural tradition of my own
I could cling onto
Instead in Lockdown, we English
Have changed, seem to be talking more
Greeting fellow walkers with smiles and waves
Nature is apace, pushing forward
Birds sing in the absence of traffic
A blue tit perches in my unused car
Flowers bloom, trees bud
Life burdgeons joyously
In the human world
It is as if the month of March
And, so far, a good part of April
Has been cancelled
Just our still beating hearts
And this fear, anxiety
Dread
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Cheesesellers Wife 
We are all adapting. Love this. Yes, we are greeting neighbors walking by whom we haven’t seen in ages – since a lot of work is now done at home. People are kinder. Stay well
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Hi Eric, Let’s hope this kindness lasts past the Pandemic. Take care, Kim
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And you too, Kim. Spending time with our grandson- his innocence gives me hope for the furure
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Hope is strong
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I was daydreaming today about walking along the Canal du Midi in the south of France. Your painting reminded me of the tree lined roads in that area. A safe future seems such a long way off . . . At least we are being blessed with hot sunshine right now.
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The painting is the road to the top of Mt Faial, a volcano in the Azores. Hopefully next year we can travel once more….
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Yes, two major holidays are a bit scaled down this year! No big Easter brunch or large Seder. Ramadan’s prayers and fasting starting the end of the month will probably be nice and peaceful. Yet, nature does go on without us, quite joyfully. Maybe it’s hinting we could crack open a window from time to time. Thanks for your thoughtful poem. Rebecca
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Thank you Rebecca, maybe we need this enforced peace, may be it will make us count our blessings.
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Yes, I’m hoping we’ll emerge from this cocoon more focused and unified.
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So true – everything has indeed stopped except the dread…
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The dread is going to take a long time to leave us. We cannot let it twist and change us.
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Yes, hopefully, we come out on the other side better people.
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Our still beating hearts, counting the hours….still here, not sick yet. Grateful for what there still is to be grateful for, and the heroes everywhere.
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We have neighbours who are nurses, he is in ICU, she in Infection control. Every time I see tham out exercising, I am relieved to see they are safe.
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I love how you’ve captured the moment, Kim, and the circularity of your poem, which reminds us that the world turns, seasons change and, eventually, the pandemic will be over. This is our reality and it’s there for posterity to read and try to understand, in the same way we tried to understand the Plague. The most touching lines for me are:
‘Those things by which we
Often measure passing time
Are gone
Birthday parties, Easter family dinners
Clubs, days out, hanging with friends’.
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Thank you Kim. The poem was hovering at the back of my mind and then an article in the New York Times by a city dweller who was grieving over the loss of all his city-based timemakers got the whole thing moving.
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