Plague Poems: 2020 Vision

"It ain't over 'til it's over," I believe the great Yogi said. To which someone

added, "yeah but when it's over, it's over." Well who knows what the future

will bring? Que sera sera. We may be facing a very dark winter as in Game

of Thrones, or we will see the death of this virus at the kind hands of nature

who so unkindly delivered it to us in 2020.

Like other artists in this pandemic I have struggled to come to terms with

all the new burdens it has brought us: masks, social distancing, shortages,

less than truthful politicians and scientists, loneliness, fear, sexual frustration

and the sad irony of putting all this in the context of a beautiful spring and

creatures not knowing the world has changed. A woodpecker rat tat tapping

on a tree in the forest for his breakfast, puffs of daisy seeds flowing on the

breeze, the sun so warm, the grass so green and fresh. Robins, titmouse,

and tiny hummingbirds miraculously making their way across the Gulf for

a little bit of sugar water in burgeoning blossoms.

It is a world Camus first looked at in his book THE PLAGUE and another,

THE STRANGER. His words become prologue and epilogue to my

own observations, and in the middle of all of this so far, the season of Easter

with its promise of resurrection and transformation. Love, amusement, hope

and just training your mind to observe what the world has become and what

it may yet be, the opportunities Camus first looked at in his plague and later

the stranger. One happy result of this artistic thrashing about has been the chance to

reconnect with old friends such as Pancho Malenzanov who painted his village

in the middle of a hurricane which seems appropriate for the cover of

this particular book. I divided the book into four parts, somewhat arbitrarily

beginning with Pandemic; then Play including occasional observations and

attempts at humor; then Roommate, since when you're living with someone you

get to learn a lot about them; and-finally-Easter with prayers to help us see the light.

"Covid Casualty" is a sad reflection on the aftermath of living in lockdown with

someone you love, a drama which has played out in any number

of households as the isolation and forced togetherness takes its toll. A sacrilege

perhaps to compare the suffocation of a room mate who could not

breathe to that of George Floyd dying at the hands of a cruel fellow human

being, and the global uproar fueled by the frustrations of isolation. A single

poem serves as an epilogue, since its rather bleak assessment does not really

suit for the section titled Easter. Still, as an indictment indictment of capital

punishment, it seems an appropriate vision of Camus' humanism, his compassion

for the human predicament to end with. As da Vinci has said "it is

an infinitely atrocious act to take away the life of a man." This is what the

virus has done atrociously in thousands of cases now. These poems mean

nothing if they forget those thousands who in desperation and courage have

achieved their own death. The collection ends with a final image of hope

and resurrection, a last final word. Even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters,

the lotus produces the most beautiful flower, an ancient symbol of rebirth, purity

and self regeneration. It calls for spiritual enlightenment so

direly needed in these troubling times when all life is threatened.