for those of us with unfun histories –
this distance between people,
long-winded ticks on the clock,
not fakin’ it through days- blessings.
i don’t use that word often- blessings.
you see, the dew on the morning grass is my doctrine.
i am but a perpetual witness
to the greens’ baptism. silently standing in line
with six feet of respected space between
could be my heaven – if there was one –
where souls are clear, exposed,
peering above calico print cloth face coverings-
no words or shiny grins to distract
our instinct. gratitude and patience
for the extra time it takes
to allow each clerk to clean,
to care for the herd.
such a mixed moment for me.
this required pause gifted me
the experience i always hoped for.
i am then reminded,
the reason for this space, pace
appears in my lungs.
breath it in, and out. nothing
but a heavy sigh redirecting me.
the unfun of my life is history – far gone.
weird how remembering the past
in a cold sweat, in a safe bed,
with a calm voice next to me
reveals a perplexing privilege.
stare at the bless-ed grass. tick tock.
I write a twitter note
to a covid-touched stranger without family,
make a facebook post
announcing we left fresh eggs on the porch,
fill another recycled amazon envelope
with cloth face coverings,
for those whom i love but will never meet.
same tick tock. different time.
i realize that i am now the calm voice
speaking to the blade of grass covered in a
baptizing cold sweat,
preparing for another’s future unfun.
same tick tock. different time.
i am beginning to Believe
the Tick Tock might just be the sound of Light.
image source: Fish Road, album cover.
Hokis | Poetry 