Round up this week is with Karen Edmisten.
Today is the first Friday of June, so that means Inkling Challenge! My writing group rotates a challenge for each month, and we post on the first Friday of the month as a group, The Inklings! This month Molly Hogan challenged us to write about a domestic task.
Truth be told, I did not read the mentor poem or write about spring cleaning because the truth is I’ve been very ill. I got Covid on a family trip to Seattle and had to stay alone in a hotel room for five days. My husband’s brother, who is a doctor, was nearby and on call for me, but there wasn’t much he could do. I just had to get through it, so I could fly home. I made it home on Saturday night. I’m still recovering, but I no longer have the virus. On Sunday morning, I read The Writer’s Almanac and used the poem “Joy” by George Bilgere as a mentor text. His poem was about recovering from the flu. I borrowed a few lines. The form helped me write again which brought me Joy.
Joy
after George Bilgere
Today I sit in the kitchen
with a glass of Gatorade, on ice,
my daily cocktail.
The door is open
to let in cool morning air.
I sit with my body, just the two of us
for a change. Covid has left us
and moved on to someone else,
with its knife well-sharpened
to gut and leave behind
loose limp skin.I am sitting in amazement
that I am able to be here breathing.
Amazed at a body’s will to survive
even in the deepest dark cave of fear.For a while I thought I would never get better.
That I would dissolve into dust in a hotel room alone,
not discovered for days.But every day there are miracles.
We wake up. We taste and smell the air.
Tiny eggs in a nest hatch into finches that will fly.Today I sit watching a prothonotary flutter at the window,
make a mental note to refill the feeders.
The desert rose at my front door
welcomes me home with a fireworks show.The tomb is empty.
Margaret Simon, 2022
Other Inkling Posts:
Reflections on the Teche 
A powerful poem, Margaret, from the despair of disease to the thrill of LIFE. So glad you are getting better and able to appreciate the latter. Hope you are back to full strength soon.
So sorry to hear you were ill, Margaret. It sounds like nature is helping you heal. I can feel that in your poem, filled with appreciation of the world and it’s small miracles. Take care and continue to heal.
But every day there are miracles…. The tomb is empty. Powerful, moving, and a testament to the times. I wonder if someone has formed a collection of poems in the time of Covid. What a time capsule that would be, and this wonderful poem would need to be there.
I’m so glad you are better and I love the lines, “I sit with my body, just the two of us for a change. Covid has left us.” Wow. I’m sorry you were so ill. I wish there was something to do for a friend battling it. I’ve heard that it’s just awful. Hopefully, you’ll get your bounce back after some gatorade mornings and rest. Take it easy. Thank you for sharing faith and joy today. Thank goodness that tomb is empty.
Margaret, I am sorry that you were very ill and for a long time. I’m happy for you that you are on the mend. Your poem is powerful, and I feel your emotions. You have many great word choices and lines. You hooked me with Gatorade as your “daily cocktail”. I resonated with this line, but not with Covid “even in the deepest dark cave of fear”. I love your use of alliteration, consonance, and assonance throughout your poem. I also love how after you wrote this line, “I would dissolve into dust in a hotel room alone, not discovered for days.” you wrote this contrasting line, “But every day there are miracles.”, which I think gives the reader connection to your feelings all the more. Next, your short lines, “We wake up. We taste and smell the air.”, are more powerful because I think, we don’t always realize how important it is to be able to wake up, taste, and smell air. However, your previous powerful lines making the reader feel your illness and feel your emotions, the reader, can now resonate that yes, to be able to wake up, breathe, smell, and taste are miracles. I agree that this next line, “Tiny eggs in a nest hatch into finches that will fly.” is a miracle, too.
I also love how your next stanza refers back to your warbler, your dad, who I know was watching over you through your illness, and who I believe will continue to be your guardian angel.
I think your metaphor of your desert rose welcoming you with “a fireworks show” is my favorite line. I have never seen a desert rose, however, your photo of one shows me your metaphor is perfect. Writing your last line as a separate stanza gives “The tomb is empty.” that much more of a powerful punch. Gosh, I’m sorry to go on and on but your poem moved me deeply. Thank you for that. Thank you for sharing your poem, link, photo, inspiration and joy. I think your writing has been good therapy for you and it will continue to be. One more thing, do you know what an amazing writer/person you are? God bless you. 🙂
Gail, I so appreciate the specificity of your comment. I often am moved by a poem but struggle to write such a thorough comment. You have a talent for it, and it is so uplifting for this writer. Thanks!
Amazing poem, Margaret. Especially Lines 6&7. It conveys so much. Gives insight into where exactly you have been. Much love, my friend. Take care. x
Margaret, I’m sorry you were so sick and am very thankful that you are on the mend. I love that your poem is filled with hope–waking to a new morning, baby birds, roses blooming. Thank you for reminding us to appreciate these miracles.
I thought of you when I read the TWA poem! I’m sorry to hear you had (are still having) such a rough time of it, but hooray for the daily miracle of waking up to a beautiful world and your wonderful life.
I read from your poem that you were sicker than I had thought from FB posts, am sorry this happened on that special trip, Margaret. And, taking us with you from sadness to joy is a special thing that I know many can cling to in their own lives. Best wishes for better every day!
I feel your feelz, Margaret, having just also battled the dreaded covid virus. I think what I noticed the most is the suffocating isolation; I can’t imagine having to be in a hotel room in a city not my own. I hope your risen-ness continues to be restorative!
Your poem captures so much and reminds me how appreciation for life’s joys is often enhanced by its trials. I’m so glad that you’re home and appreciating life’s daily miracles.
So glad you are on the mend Margaret! My daughter just got over covid too. I like the breath, and life-breath weaving through your poem, and the “prothonotary” bird flutter, thanks!
Margaret, welcome back to the land of the living! You made such good and restrained use of George’s poem, bringing your own details–the knife well-sharpened, ‘That I would dissolve into dust in a hotel room alone,
not discovered for days.’ I enjoyed my lesson on prothonotary warblers, too!
Margaret: I’m behind in my reading and posting, but wanted to register my regrets on your illness and wish you full recovery. I’ve been thinking of you. May the days ahead bring you joy and energy.