I’m over at Esther Chilton’s blog, here, with a rather sombre poem… please go and say hi.
I wrote this after I listened to actress, Ruthie Henschell describing being allowed to visit and hold her mother one year after lockdown started and how her mother is now speechless and incapable of walking, all lost during her enforced isolation; a cruel death-in-life.
I’ve lost you to Covid.
In March we held hands. Shared memories and chocolates.
They closed the doors and the sun shone on the empty windows.
Your smile faded, like a slow sunset
Angry reds and bruised purples.
Others died and we maintained our unsocial distance.
Summer arrived, bringing hope and a new window,
The only rain battering it our tears as it stayed shut.
We locked gazes but we saw reflections of ourselves,
Our words drifted against the glass, familiar phrases beating that pane,
Deadened, turning you wordless.
Autumn’s bronzes set hard,
You sculpted yourself in your familiar seat
So still, breathing your silent despair.
We left winter’s bleak void for another hope:
A new opening. A new promise.
Test, temperature and there you were.
I held you, those so familiar bony shoulders, tangy scent, that little scar.
But you’d gone, you’d left the building of your body.
A living breathing husk,
Saved by science, killed by kindness.
We shared treats but only I have the memories
And no one to share them with.