Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Bio Note: I am a poet and spoken word artist from Staten Island, NY. Under the name Jacob Moses, I penned the books ...and the willow smiled and Art Therapy 101 (Cyberwit.net, 2019). I started writing poetry on September 12, 2002.
Love languages, eclectic at their core But they coincide with the universe Our tongues operate the same more and more Through crises, we too embrace the diverse While we spend all our quarantine alone This common ground we share will emanate Decoding of the philosopher's stone Reveals the dialect of human faith Whether English or Spanish or Russian Whether Chinese or Arabic or French A poet's words will not cease in touching Will not keep us trapped in this solemn trench COVID-19 preys on the strong and weak In turn, it's given us the words to speak
Every time I wake from Slumber, I am more easily Startled during morning, noon, and Evening hours; terror purveyed by Networks and cables and satellites Televising this necessary foray into Introversion; which I no longer Attribute to shyness, but the Loneliness thrust upon the masses
We will be the survivors of this: Planning how to weather the storms of Armageddon Tools at our disposal fueled by space: That which we provide and the cosmos where we orbit No longer do we need to assault: In reality, our uprising is one of healing We are already in agitation: Protection in our hands; we are the gifts provided In the midst of divine vision quests: Shamanic ties between us and ancestral guidance Periods become semicolons: Stories still need to be told, for we are still at war Now I find myself in this battle: One which puts me on the front lines of viral ambush I’ve got my altar to protect me: Grapes and honey, Dionysus and Lakshmi appeased Enriched by herbal sacraments of marijuana: She will calm my anxiety and my depression Masks I’ve worn no longer protect me: They were the kind hiding all of my identities My words have never been sanitized: Though now the hands with which I write them are doused in Purell But I’m not afraid to get dirty: Paint and ink still are my weapons while we’re struggling Revolution is upon us now: The kind where artists have enough time for creation
©2020 Jack M. Freedman
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