Selected Responses from Spring 2020 Poetry for the People Class
On The COVID– 19 Pandemic
1 Table of Contents– Response to COVID-19
Page # Title Author (Last, First)
02 Table of Content– Response to COVID-19
04 COVID Meets the West Hoefker,Cathrine
06 It’s not that bad Greer, Autumn
08 March 2020, We Learned to Grieve Hemphill, Kiere
10 The Silence is Deafening Green, Tabby
12 The Never-Ending List Hoefker, Cathrine
15 Down With The Sickness Wilson, Summer
16 Stay Inside Flores, Matthew
18 Nowhere to go/ Just Breath Roeda, Jon
20 Wishes for next Spring Wich, Amanda
22 Standby Ortega, Kirsten Batholomew
2 Page # Title Author (Last, First)
24 A Note to the Future on How we Faced this Sachaj, Rebecca Darkness
25 During the COVID-19 Pandemic
26 Twin Flames Garcia, Ariana
3 COVID Meets the West
Hoefker, Cathrine
(After “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen)
Doctors shrieking out-of the states, With test tubes waved way up high Ain't no fear but the fear of this virus, Vaccine just ain’t ready to go
Are you ready, hey are you ready for this? Are you coughing into the crook of your sleeve? Out of airports, the carriers walk Into crowded lots
HEY!
Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, and another one gone Another one bites the dust.
HEY!
Are you listening, are you scared? How many will have to die? Out of grocery stores carriers walk Into crowded streets
HEY!
There’s plenty of ways to level a town And bring their population down You can nuke ‘em, you can shoot ‘em You can pull a coup d’etat and leave the economy down
HEY!
And it’s ready it's out and about The illness is spreading fast Out of cruise ships, carriers walk Crossing borders and into new lands oh yeah
4 HEY!
Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, and another one gone Another one bites the dust.
5 It’s not that Bad
Greer, Autumn
She’d heard about the virus in China Mostly, she’d seen the memes. People with the flu: stay home sick all day People with Coronavirus: I travel the world and seven seas She laughed and sent it to her lads. It’s not that bad.
People in Europe tested positive Places were being shut down People are so dramatic It’s just the flu It’s not like it’s a huge pandemic He was in a plane, Puerto-Rico bound. It’s not that bad.
There were a few cases in the U.S. Their tickets to Italy were cancelled Great, there goes our Spring Break Guess we’ll have to spend it down by the lake, instead The group all camped together in one tiny tent The six-foot rule didn’t count for them. They were healthy, and It’s not that bad.
Parks flooded as schools were moved online People lost their jobs and cards were declined Only the essential can report for work It became real when the emergency alert went off on their phones: Unless deemed essential, you must stay at home
But aren’t we all essential? That’s why they say Stay at home. To protect the girl in the hospital with cancer. To keep your grandparents safe from danger. To keep the death toll from rising above two-hundred fifty-thousand.
But don’t worry, because for you and me, I’ve heard It’s not that bad.
6 7 March 2020, We Learned to Grieve
Hemphill, Kiera
The world shifted; we were left to marry loss and hope and to weld joy and mourning like jagged pieces of a stained-glass window. These connections were an ache settling in the backs of our eyes and the lines of our throats.
We realized more fully what it meant to be human. What it meant to live collectively. What it meant to grieve.
Grief is a Tennessee gas station in July. It is dense, inhospitable humidity compressing our lungs, melting our cotton shirts to our shoulder blades; it is thick air fusing our thighs to the nylon seat, evaporating our resolve.
Grief is desperately unwanted and somehow, expected; it crowds the crevices of every unassuming building, news article, sidewalk conversation, local grocery store aisle.
Grief can feel solitary, like we are alone under the stark beams of an overzealous stage light, aware of our being, aware of our habits, aware of our naïve illusions of control.
Yet grief connects us, molding each voice into a global echo expressing life and loss.
March 2020, we learned to grieve, not to appease our own thoughts or to balance our own losses,
8 but to exfoliate the layers of dirt and anguish from our world, to offer the warm hospitality of connection, to say the millions of numbers crowding the statistics mattered— they were people.
We grieved change and lost answers. We grieved missed goodbyes tumbling around our minds like coins in the dryer. We grieved canceled graduations and the hollow cheer of “Pomp and Circumstance.” We grieved loved ones slipping away surrounded by hazmat suits and a cacophony of respirators.
We grieved jobs shriveling like orange rinds in the sun. We grieved children trapped in cycles of abuse, neglect, and hunger in their homes. We grieved lives marked by mass graves and unemployment claims. We grieved doctors and nurses bowing beneath exhaustion and insufficient resources.
March 2020, we learned to grieve.
9 The Silence is Deafening
Green, Tabby
Tick, Tick, Tick
The world is at a halt But time keeps going Birthdays Anniversaries Holidays Still there Still happening But silenced under the sound of the news
Drip, Drip, Drip
I can now fix the faucet Where’s the toolbox? I’ll get it after this commercial I’ll get it after this movie I’ll get it after dinner I’ll get it tomorrow
Click, Click, Click
I read the list I shop the aisles From the comfort of my couch Still compulsively buying And now I can’t blame product placement
Pssst, Pssst, Pssst
The last sound I hear after everything I touch The Lysol coats the air The Lysol coats the knobs The Lysol coats the electronics Lacing it Like frosting on a cake
10 But not as sweet Everything suffocated under its smell
Silence
I watch the interpreter on the screen I replace the missing Of school Of my teacher Of my inspiration She repeats the confirmed cases She repeats the death toll That’s enough practice for today
This is how we flatten the curve, right?
11 The Never-Ending List
Hoefker, Cathrine
It started out as a temporary change, A momentary shift and it has evolved into a monstrous beast that hides under lists TO-DO LIST (home)
• Dishes, • • Laundry, • • cleaning, •
Re-wash laundry, wipe down the doors, do the dishes, switch out the air filters...
• work out, • • Plan and make dinner, • • homeschool the children, • • discipline the children for fighting over a sock •
- where did it even come from?!?!?! - explain to the kids for the 100th time that they can't go to a friends house, this is how it is go- ing to be right now and that we should make the most of it, get some work done, Ok, what about work... TO-DO (work)
• Read those 3 books •
you should have read over spring break!
• Finish those assignments from spring break class
12 • • Clear Inbox, • • respond to emails, • • send out those emails I forgot to do yesterday, •
was that even yesterday or was that from last week, I thought I had sent them out?...
• check back in on the kids, make sure they are doing what they need to be doing • • go for a walk, • • don't forget to rest, • • learn something new, • oh shit we need to go grocery shopping, Shopping List
• Toilet paper •
maybe they have finally restocked....
• Gloves? • • Soap • any soap will work at this point
• Chicken (3lbs), • • Green Chilies • • COFFEE • • Noodles (gf), •
13 • Cheese, • • Sour Cream, • • Cottage Cheese, • • Milk •
?Does the grocery store have fabric?
• Materials to make masks •
Where did the day go 8 hours felt like 2 But yesterday dragged on. At least there is dinner on the table tonight.
"Hello. Yes, this is she. I am well, just making dinner, how can I help you? Yes, I can start to- morrow. 8am? Sure. Great. Thank you so much. I will see you tomorrow!" At least I have a job now... Everyone sits down for dinner This is the only time we are together In the same room Talking to each other. Yet we are home everyday
14 Down With The Sickness
Wilson, Summer
“It’s not all that bad,” I told myself Rolling out of bed And for the first time in months My to-do list is bare and inspiring What will it be today? Yoga? More peppermint tea? Perhaps some anime? I should be fine as long as I do not turn on the news, Lest the panic sweeps over me as well.
But my sister, My world, The only one who could ever understand the trauma we spring from, crashes through the front door, Her eyes are nearly swollen shut, Her cheeks chapped and stinging from salty tears, She declares that quarantine has dissected her life day by day, Until there was nothing left but panic and isolation. We were packing up our cars with her belongings only hours later, Emotional tensions run high, She just wanted to come see me, But he was afraid and wouldn't let her go, Lest she returns hand-in-hand with a paranoid death.
I can't help but think that people’s true colors are revealed, Scarlet--Selfishly hoarding a cart of toilet paper, Purple--Possessively locking the doors and windows, Green--growing and watering plants while humming.
But my palate is tainted as the days go by, 12 hours spent on an essay only for the professor to refuse to read it, It is my fault and my fault alone, A final grade dictated by a single mistake--caring too much, trying too hard, overachieving, Cracks have begun to form in the framework of perfection that I aspire for, My confidence is crumbling with it, It's not right no matter how many times I reframe it within my mind, I am not an angry person, What is happening to me?
15 Stay Inside
Flores, Matthew
Crisp air chokes me awake- A thrilling lack of purpose, I do my part with no regard for anyone, Spend another day hiding from the Sun.
Quickly I become undone.
I think of every word I’ve ever said Every book I’ve ever read, Every movie I’ve ever seen, I can see it all, and it’s clear and it’s clean.
The fog rolls in between.
I think of everything I never said. Every book I should have read, Every movie I said I’ve seen, I ponder more amphetamines.
But now I sleep right through, Avoid the sun and everyone. I haven’t left the house in weeks- Maybe it’s been daze.
May flowers burn the fog, now the sun just burns my skin, Been inside so long my psyche asked me where I’ve been, I’ve been getting reacquainted- With my pride and my chagrin.
16 17 Nowhere to go/ Just breathe
Roeda, Jon
He finished another binge, checked the date again, (the second time today) still early April.
The coils wrapped around the inside of his chest squeezing the breath out of him.
Nowhere to go
Will Grandma be alright? Brother who is diabetic? Sister who has asthma?
Mother with cancer? Father with black lungs? Grandfather is already gone.
Checking twitter again, “She lost both parents in twelve hours.”
Nowhere to go
He can’t take the silence living alone. But no one can come, no one can leave, not even him. (or so he thinks)
Now he’s shaking, trembling the broken knob trying to get the door open.
Like a prisoner attempting to get the cell open.
He’s successful,
18 walking out the door, and taking a walk through the trees.
Just breathe
19 Wishes for next Spring
Wich, Amanda
Maybe next Spring we can go on break the trip we planned for 2020 visit our parents—hug them tight shop for swimsuits go out for drinks with friends
Maybe next Spring we can plan summer trips we take go out at night look forward to graduations even plan a wedding
Maybe next Spring we can buy toilet paper stand in line without taped Xs showing where is safe our hands cracking, bleeding sanitizer stinging
Maybe next Spring the news won’t be filled with daily infection rates rolling on the TV death tolls climbing stencil spray paint on the sidewalk of closed parks can fade
20 Maybe next Spring won’t be stolen—we can breathe we’ll be free to enjoy life look forward to our time and live without fear of who or what we touch.
21 Standby
Ortega, Kirsten Batholomew
We put on the obligatory face masks, stand 6 feet apart or sit every other seat, clutching our government-issued souvenir snow globes of Normal City and wait on standby for the next flight with open seats. We point out the tourist sights in the snow globe to our children and tell them we’ll get to Normal City soon. We read to them despite the din, hold them close and watch the signs. We mill about and gather our meager supplies. We find only chips and soda, discover we want what we need instead. Barter for toilet paper with clerks who return home each night and return in the morning. We watch the names announced for seats to Corona City, shrink away and shake the snow globes. Watch the white flakes settle over Normal City. We breathe through the face masks, sucking against them when we move. We stand together before the ever-changing signs, try to smile with just our eyes. We sit still so we can breathe. We adjust our children’s masks back over their noses, give up the attempt to read and let them watch the world. We watch the signs. We become restless, raise our voices. We shake the snow globes, willing
22 them to show our futures. We watch each other’s eyes above the masks. We realize the souvenir city is just a trinket of our past lives. Rant against reality or develop conspiracy theories: Normal City was destroyed. Normal city never was. We declare a revolution and smash our souvenirs. We demand our destinations, ignore each other’s eyes. We watch the signs for our names to appear on the standby list. We walk to other signs, welcome new eyes above masks. We hoard irrational items like peanut packets, miniature bottles of liquor. We give up naming our destination. We wait. We remember slowly who we are. We offer our hands to our children again. We wonder if there are alternate routes to alternate destinations. We are not appeased by standby lists. We allow ourselves to wander. We recognize each other by our eyes above the masks. When the signs change, we will be ready.
23 A Note to the Future on How we Faced this Darkness
Sachaj, Rebecca
Do you know what it is to find yourself spiraling down dark tunnels— drowning in a sea of “I cannot see the end?” If I write “we only want the end,” would you understand that desperate unmet need? And how it feeds on me, as I whisper “please, let this end come.”
I pray you don’t, for as you start to so long spiral, you then begin to gaze at the light of the end as your only savior— the only hope lighting up your days.
This might seem alright to you— the movies showed us no nobler picture than this— to press forward for the end. But you must understand what we lost when Covid came unplanned.
When Covid came, we did not understand that these daily joys we live in would soon all fall away. Staring down dark tunnels, we forgot the mirrors on it’s walls
24 that reflected every light we refused to see.
You see, how could we look around us? As death counts climb and grow it soon becomes easier to look away from each and every need that we could not fulfill. “I am not a nurse, doctor or first responder.” And these hands feel useless as they write little words in silence.
But, I will tell you something that I learned in all that sinking darkness— those who dared to look around them and dared to stop straining for an end that they could never glimpse, were the ones who made the difference. Those who faced the darkness saw each reflected light that was born within its midst— the light of everyday people who gave all that they could and looked to what was needed in the each and everyday. A song, a dance, a grocery run— these remind us of the dawn.
And the brave human souls who looked, like Pandora, saw, in all that darkness, the gleaming light of everyday people. They were the ones who,
25 taking the first step, saw what Capurnaum might become.
And I? When I at last looked around and stared the darkness in the eye, I saw each opportunity and where I belonged.
And glaring at the face of death was where the end we fought for was at last revealed.
26 Selected Responses from Spring 2020 Poetry for the People Class
During The COVID– 19 Pandemic
The following poem(s) are not directly talking about the COVID-19 Pandemic, but encapsulate some of the thoughts that happened during this strange time
27 Twin Flames
Garcia, Ariana
An imperfectly perfect reflection of my soul.
My mirror soul. My soul connection.
Magnetized by your presence but confounded by your honesty.
I am forever haunted by you.
Together or not, there is no denying our symptoms.
Knowing exactly what the other is thinking merely based on intuition.
Same thoughts, same emotions, and same instabilities.
Which is why this silence has been an unexplainable madness.
There is fear in the quiet.
There is longing in the fear.
You have caused all of this disruption, my love.
By simply existing.
Can’t live with you. Can’t live without you.
Discomfort is an understatement.
My inner conflicts now become blatantly outer.
Because you show me the parts of myself that I have purposefully diminished.
I hate you for doing that.
28
I like playing hide and seek with myself.
And so, you do too.
But now I see my insecurities loud and clear.
Do you see everything you hate about yourself?
Or will you continue to avoid it by filling your cup with useless love.
Or will I?
It is such a shame that our obduracy keeps us from living in harmony.
Our spark was euphoric.
And our fire burned bright.
But that flame led to an explosion.
Destroying everything in its path.
Yet, the ashes still flicker.
I leave my light on just in case.
One day that connection finds itself again.
To burn again, to fear again, and to love again.
But I refuse to be the first to surrender.
I will simply leave the door cracked.
Not necessarily for reconciliation, but more as a cease-fire.
Possibility lies in patience and patience lies in persistence.
Goodbye for now.
My twin separated at the birth of our intimacy.
29 Our flame will still burn in my mind.
Until that nod comes one day, I will continue to make my own peace of mind.
Now that you’ve done your job and I have done mine.
Soon the day will come where I will be able to rest.
I will still see you in my dreams as I am in yours.
As we break the glass of this nightmare and meet again on the other side.
30 31