Alabama was one of the later states to give stay-at-home orders. They came last Friday (2 days ago) and went into effect yesterday evening. These are trying times, as things we once thought stable and consistent have changed on us: work schedules and operation, freedom to travel, childcare situations, socializing, etc. etc. I’m thankful that both my husband and I are able to work still and for family and friends who have stepped in to take care of our son while we’re away at our jobs. May we not take these things for granted once things return to what we would call “normal”!
To keep ourselves occupied and entertained in this time, a couple of my friends started a virtual scavenger hunt for the rest of us, and one of the items was to write a poem. This is what I came up with.
Spare me the tale of your quarantine, O suffering extrovert, O pining child. Care I not to hear where you’ve been— In your confining walls as though exiled. All’s dull as you cook and read and clean. Lo, I know it well, to put it mild. Don’t regale me with stories of your indoor crusades. Instead tell me of places distant and far— Someone somewhere has it made. They dine in a cafe, then browse a bazaar. After that they venture into a store, Never worried about that six-foot gap, Caring little ‘bout the aisle of TP galore. I, meanwhile, just take a nap. No, I’m not complaining about the situation. God knows, for real, I did need a vacation From the whining clients and complaining collective Or from the daily grind and corporate directive. Right now, I don’t miss the hamster-wheel objective. This sequestration, instead, makes me creative. Having little in the fridge makes me innovative. Each quiet hour, I wax meditative While the world outside slips into spring. In the calm, in his domicile, each becomes king. Now, with six-foot partitions, the COVID choir sings.
Want to know a secret? This is an acrostic. Read the first letter of each line down to find the message.