Words While We Wait - Day 1
Words While We Wait from Coboconk, Ontario
THE INCUBATION PERIOD
Poet: Julie Bradimore Ritchie
Artist: Donna Bisschop
Note: This poem has intentional misspellings.
I see you….
Quietly gathering your favourite books, teas and cakes, as you stay in, stand in, play in, and sit in the “guard den”.
I see you….
Locking the gate, flattening the curve, while calmly, cautiously, cooling your “heals.”
I feel you….
Winding down into this singular, searching solitude of isolation.
I feel you….
Turning inward, deeply, diving daily, as hidden wisdom wells up in self-reflection.
I hear you….
Zoom into my life with undivided attention as you pivot and lash, and wax and wane, as this bitter bubble bounces.
I hear you….
Breathe this new normal of restrictions through masked lungs.
I smell you….
Mother Earth as you go about your essential business of cleaning our air, oceans and view, while we stay home in responsible, restless restraint.
I smell you….
Sweating to the oldies, with your posse of Peloton peddlers, pushing through this pandemic.
I touch you….
Through PPE, and leave faithful, familiar finger prints on “windowpains”.
I touch you….
With passionate, persistent prayers of spiritual hugs calling out to you while social distancing.
I sense you….
In this state of emergency… this fearful, fatal, frequency of contact tracing in our community.
I sense you….
In memories of posies and the husha husha we all fall down of nursery rhymes, as children learn on line.
I honour you….
As the needle hits my skin… this valued, vital, vaccine to help stop the community spread.
I honour you….
By keeping the gate closed.