heart

Name it

 

Disbelief – it’s hard to believe this is happening. Or that it’s quite real.

Grief – immense sadness for the loss of life as we know/knew it.

Fear – I’m afraid, not really of getting sick but of the unknown. How long it will last? What will it mean for the world when we come out of this? Are the freedoms we’re giving up (grudgingly but willingly) going to be restored? How long until the fabric of society starts to unravel? What about for my kids? Their social lives, in some ways, are more tenuous, but also more resilient. What will the world look like for them at the end of this or down the track? Will it be merely a blip or a huge game-changer?

Hope – things could get better. The collective coming-together of everyone across the planet or even just everyone in my street. The environment breathing a sigh of relief with most planes grounded, much heavy industry at a halt (I presume? Are kids still mining cobalt in the Congo?), way less cars on the road etc.

Compassion – I mean, are those kids sill mining cobalt? Even if the mine has shut, would their lives be better? Fuck me. And, closer to home, so many facing financial difficulties, grappling with mental health and physical confinement. Illness. All the things.

 

How is my heart doing? – I have learnt a lot about how to cope with difficult things in the past few years. Particularly over the past 14 months or so, I have gone inward and deeper on the lifelong journey of feeling and negotiating my emotions. This is rather than numbing them out, attempting to ignore or run away from them.

I’m grateful for this ‘training’.

I’m glad I am strong, even in the midst of feeling highly vulnerable.

I’m relieved I can still exercise outside on my own. For how long, who knows?

I’m surprised to be working in one of the few ‘growth industries’ during the Covid-19 crisis, Communications.

I know my situation is better off than many, if not most, and that I am lucky. But comparison is not helpful and I must also acknowledge how I’m feeling: disbelieving, fearful, grief-stricken yet also hopeful and compassionate.

 

I will write some more poems this week. I think I need to.

Thanks for listening.

 

Photo: from this morning’s run – this gent told me (from a safe distance) to turn around and see the rainbow! I snapped a pic of him as he walked away.

Heartplace

it was pink and curved

it was black thick-pile velvet

it had the tacky floor of a Camden boozer

and it smelled like clothes

in the morning

before

the smoking ban

small enough

to hold in one hand

forearms rest on thighs

an imperfect fleshy sphere

a soggy cosmetic sponge

pink-brown, is that my skintone?

outdated,  like a cord-phone

a soaked-in scent of hangovers

fumes of long ago

mine, tongue-smooth, alone…

lazy, comfortable, like home

 

Soundcloud recording: https://soundcloud.com/user-808707280/heartplace

Image: https://unsplash.com/@agebarros

cars & guitars

try to pin thoughts

like pressing guitar strings into

my heart – tender meat – but

I never learnt that instrument

apart from listening

my fingers, so clumsy

I can’t. No. I can’t

understand anymore

where do I start

already halfway gone, and

there’s no place to

pull in

open up my bonnet

tweak the engine, maybe

put a new one in

 

Photo: https://unsplash.com/@felipeluiz27