Channeling

 

This poem came from sitting around too much, binge-watching too much, finding myself listless and devoid of energy.  A plight, which  I imagine many people find themselves in, as they try  to creep forward through the slothful slog, that is this pandemic.

When we realize suddenly, how very little we are accomplishing, the only thing that rescues us from absolute self-condemnation is knowing that we could get up to so much more mischief, conceivably of a lethal kind, if we were to go out of doors.

Thankfully, this morbid morass is slowly ebbing. The fog is dissipating.  And perhaps, if everyone has the good sense to get fully vaccinated, we will all soon transform into the energetic beings we were always meant to be.

This poem also called up my dear father.  In the short year that passed, between my mother’s death and his own,  I had the feeling that her absence left such an enormous gaping hole for him, that everything else seemed beside the point.  Fortunately he was not quite as morose and neglectful of his surroundings and his own health, as some of us tend to get, in the throes of our grief.

Hope it only gets better from here!  Thanks for stopping by to read.  And please scroll down to the blue form and sign up for the newsletter to get weekly mailings!

 

Utterly, utterly sedentary,

Keeping my home’s inner walls in view,

Puttering, pacing my sanctuary,

Utterly channeling you.

 

Utterly, utterly sedentary,

Muttering curses, concocting a brew,

Motionless as a mortuary,

Utterly channeling you.

 

Utterly, utterly sedentary,

Letting the dust rise an inch or two,

Newspapers piling to heaven around me,

Utterly channeling you.

 

Utterly, utterly sedentary,

Move not a muscle.  To Death, be true.

Loitering here, till morticians find me,

Utterly channeling you.

 

Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew

 

For another poem about trying to process a loved one’s passing, read The Problem.  For a discussion of how the COVID year, 2020, was like the Slough of Despond in Pilgrim’s Progress, read Be Well, written as we learned our President–now former President–had the virus.