April 9, 2020

Alternate Reality

What if we had a pandemic of poetry, a outright plague
of it, a veritable rash of people seeing, making connections,
linking disparate things, ideas and images joined together,
or juxtaposed, like shards of stained glass, myriad in color,
assembled with care and held up to the light?

What if we had an outbreak of openness to seeing things
afresh in that new-from-old light, to re-membering that
which was scattered and broken – ourselves, that is – to
mending that which was torn asunder, to gathering again
the fragments of our lives blown apart by the four winds

of busy-ness and sloth, recklessness and overweening?