I am taking a creative-inducing drug called A-Poem-a-Day. It’s good for me. But it doesn’t always make me happy. Poetry is a place where emotions become raw. This week I heard of another community member’s death from Covid. He was 75 and battled for months. His family was dedicated, by his side, and hopeful until they couldn’t be. I don’t know this kind of loss. I’m a lucky one, and sometimes that makes me feel guilty.
Laura Shovan does a poetry writing project every February. This year the theme is body. If you are interested in seeing the week’s prompts, go to her site here.
Heather Meloche posted the prompt “lungs” with a profound graffiti art piece “I can’t breathe”. Not only do I wish I could breathe for those who can’t, I also wish I could take away the pain of loss. This empathy came out in my poem.
Misty morning
fills my lungs
with living.
On this day
I pray
for air,a way to not care
people are drowning.They can’t breathe.
A machine breathes for them.I wish for a way
like roots of trees
breathe together underground,a way
to pass
hand to hand
lung to lungHealth
Margaret Simon, draft
Healing
Hearty
life.
