I taught a Zoom yoga class tonight.
It’s so strange not to be with my students,
you know, in the same room, like I’m used to.
At the same time, here I was in Maryland,
and there were friends in Texas who joined,
one in New Jersey, and one from somewhere
I clearly wasn’t, because it was night where I was,
and she had light streaming through her window.
So although I can’t be physically present to my students,
somehow, I can be with friends all over the world.
And that, my friends, is the power of the internet.
So although this strange time comes with many challenges,
there are some unexpected silver linings,
like teaching yoga to someone a thousand miles away,
Over at the NaPoWriMo site, today’s prompt inspired me to think a little differently. I like the idea of twenty little poetry projects.
Only birdsong can save me now.
Taking no joy in the television,
growing tired of virtual chats,
I am the introvert who now
to be in a crowded restaurant.
They flutter around the birdfeeder
hopping, singing, pecking.
Their togetherness is so normal,
Only their song can save me.
Hello friends. Today is day 3. Except it’s close to midnight, which means it’s almost tomorrow. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was all about using a rhyme generator and playing around with sound, but I’m not a very rhyme oriented poet—maybe I should try to be more enthusiastic about rhyming? At any rate, I must admit I am totally not in the mood to attempt to generate a word bank right now, so I’m going rogue on this one.
Too Many Words
I don’t need to search for words. I have too many in my head right now.
Virus. Curve. Shelter. Pandemic. Isolation. Crisis. Collapse. Fear.
I attempted to keep myself busy with yard work today.
It’s what normal people do on a normal spring day.
I even got my kids involved.
(Part of me was thrilled to have them outside.
If it were a regular day they would have been in school).
I found myself in tears hours later,
after my kids went to their dad’s house for the weekend,
and I found myself alone, knowing I’d see no one else for days.
Quarantine. Ventilator. Masks. Intubation. Social Distancing. Death.
I call my sister in tears. I tell her that I’m not passing the yoga test,
that I’m not doing this as well as a yoga teacher should do a pandemic.
I’m hearing the inner critic, she said. More tears.
I distracted myself with rare vintage footage of Terrence McKenna,
me and 5000 people on Crowdcast…totally alone, watching together.
I guess that this is how I’ll get through this.
I’ll face my aloneness. Like everyone else in the world.*
*I feel a need to acknowledge those of you who are shut inside with people you don’t necessarily want to be with, my heart goes out to you. Maybe my situation (days of isolation) sounds like paradise. Well, I’ll breathe for you as you long for solitude, and I ask you to please breathe for me as I long for company. I’ll take in this peace and quiet, and I’ll radiate this feeling out into the whole world for you to feel. My friends who are with loved ones…please take in your feelings of warmth, being seen, being loved, and radiate this feeling out into the whole world for all of us who are lonely, that we might feeled loved even in our loneliness. Thank you. 🙏🏻❤️🌈🙏🏻
I loved today. The kids and I had a sweet hike in the woods. So much sunshine and wind! It’s also day 2 of NaPoWriMo. Today’s prompt got me because it invited us to write a poem about a place, including details to help portray a mood. I always want to write about natural places, so here we go…
Loch Raven Reservoir Hike, Take 1
We hadn’t been there in a while
and I was excited
Until we walked up to the signs
saying “NO TRESPASSING’.
another sign said “CORONAVIRUS.
This park closed to public,
One of my favorite trails, now forbidden.
Loch Raven Reservoir Hike, Take 2
We drove further down the road.
I followed my nose,
crossed a bridge,
parked the car just beyond.
There were no signs,
just an inviting trail,
going straight up.
I thought about the miracles that spring up
the possibilities that open up
when the routine is shaken up.
A Little Later
A blustery wind
made the still leafless trees
creak and groan
as their naked tops whipped around.
The water sparkled green.
Tiny pink flowers on the forest floor.
And more frequently than I want to say,
bits of trash,
Signs that humans have been this way.
First a young man
then twenty minutes later
an older man
passed us on the trail,
warmly keeping their distance.
My house is not spacious like the forest
but there is no wind chilling my bones
or signs telling me I am unwelcome.
Thank God for Home.