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| A scar tree at the Scar Trees display beside the Warrego Highway at Amby, Queensland |
See, here’s the thing. On this earth, we’re embodied.
My brother texts Mom is in the hospital
with chest pains; and I wait with The New York
Times telling me the President and his
close staff have tested positive.
Covid-19, not AIDS or HIV,
this is twenty, no, forty years later. I wait.
One month before the presidential vote.
Jimmy Carter turned 96. Like Mom.
My brother texts that Mom feels better, but
the New York Times has nothing new to say.
These bodies we carry are faithful up
to a point. Then they sit us down and ask
What have you done for me lately? Have you
protected me from dangerous virus
and societal dangers? See my scars,
look at my open wounds and tell me what
you see. I am the story of your life.
We earn our medals of flesh and metal,
and in the end know which are more precious.
And everybody’s body must hold dreams.
Ah, i love this , especially your closing lines.
ReplyDeleteSuch good reading, Susan. The last line was fabulous.
ReplyDeleteDear Dr Susan Your poem vividly expresses the current situation the world is passing through. You have highlighted the disposition in the West .As we all are suffering together you have made us realize the importance of time and duty "I am the story of your life" A highly conscientious poem and thought provoking. May Allah bring peace and comfort to you and your family. My sister in Cleveland is also in a sad state , unable to visit her ailing daughter.
ReplyDeleteSomehow we all have to keep those dreams. Somehow.
ReplyDelete