Here's a poem or perhaps a rap!



Re-planning things, unpacking things

Unbooking things, pre-checking things

And ticking things and making lists

And tracking things and only ever being kissed

In messages with crosses and emojis.

And never talking anything unless it's Covid this or Covid that

Impacting things, infecting things and spreading things

So everybody's dreading things

And no one's really said the thing that some of us are surely thinking

Is this the quiet voice of earth informing us that all of this

Is not infecting but ejecting us and quitting us

And telling us to go and hurt another planet

Or just go...

And here's the bottom line...

We don't know.


When someone dies

Particularly the closest person in your life

You analyse and analyse.

You intimately know each day

It's all you have to guide the way.

That, and the look in people's eyes.


And everything becomes a symbol

This means that and this means this

And you tap into a vein of pain

Just to quit the vein and feel the bliss.


So when this branch fell from my tree

And clung tightly to the wire below

I figured that was me.

A new me. A me I didn't know.


And so she hangs - a stick woman -

Just hangs there every day.

I look for her each morning.

She never goes away.

She dances in the sunshine

She sways in every breeze

She flails in restless winds and rain

The wire is her trapeze.

And sometime not too far away

She'll fall or float down from the skies

And I will cry or laugh or both

And further analyse.

And then I guess I'll understand

The moving on when someone dies. 

For all inquiries, please contact 

© 2020 Ann Bryant

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