Chicken Little

I came up with this poem while reading the stock market news. There, I found an article about the different levels of dips and dives the market takes, from corrections, to bear markets, to crashes. The article contained a colorful phrase, describing the stock market of March 2020, as “swooning.” From the market, we expect swings of fortune, from panic to exuberance or vice versa. But today, every aspect of life seems full of swings and lurches, up and down, (but mostly down) leaving one wondering, what to expect next.

After reading the article, I heard another siren outside, the wail of omicron. And I had my first line.

No one can deny, how tiresome and tedious some things are, lately. Covid. The volatility of financial markets. The relentlessly aggravating political news. The alarming events beyond our borders.

These negative fumes in our atmosphere seem to fuel the ever-more-shrill claims, that we are heading for a bad end. The Death of Democracy. The Failure of our Institutions.

All this seems a little over the top to me.

People on the news and social media seem eager to join in the outcry, to out-bid the shock-value of every dire prognostication. Without letting a dearth of facts or proof get in the way. Eager to say the sky is falling, because someone else said it was. Without actually looking up and checking for themselves.

Chicken Little is the one in the fairy tale, who cried “The sky is falling!” when it was only a little acorn that fell on his head. The voice in this poem is a little like his.

I suggest we all take a breath, and try not to panic. Even though panic-inducing news makes for good ratings. Chances are, everything will be fine. Things tend to work out in the end, as my mother always said.

Too many sirens

Ring in my ear,

Warning Apocalypse

Soon will be here.

Jagged corrections,

Arrival of bears:

Swooning, the Market

Declares, we are there.

Rampant inflation,

Dollars worth less

(Can’t simply spend our way

Out of this mess!)

Political footballs

Arching above.

Trading suspicion

For brotherly love.

Treason. Conspiracy.

Plotting for coups.

Breadcrumbs of proof

Feed insatiable news.

Troops mass on borders.

Hospitals ooze.

Senators bicker

Or simply refuse.

Nonstop attacks on

Our Nation, so blessed.

Apocalypse, now?

Hell, that’s anyone’s guess.

Copyright 2022 Andrea LeDew

For another look at the Apocalypse read Horsemen. For another look at chickens, read Chicken Fight.