In Memory of March 2020 Lockdown
Not a month, but short for Martha or Marjory perhaps.
Her frosty lips touching the petals of daffodils,
soaked up the hail from yesterday
and I say ‘Hail, Mary – the March is on its way,
hurling down from heavens.
Water and wind confusing each other in one sick dance
getting bolder, entering living rooms, whispering strange songs
whizzing around ears, sneezing into eye balls.
Ghosts used to visit wintertime but in 2020, they’ve stayed until spring.
The bony fingers reach for a pack of cards and out comes the Joker.
Lost in the middle is us – all of US, waiting to be summoned;
‘Where’s the light? But wait, not yet’.
The phantoms are rummaging through cards,
the old bones in charity shops have not been this busy since 1991.
Their eye balls colour of winter grey
and the teeth silver foil.
The cards are getting bigger and bigger
and now they’ve appeared on TV.
Tangled graphs and dancing nodes
to the tune of Spring that stalls
and Death that strolls,
stopping everything.
Not a migrant 
A year now. Hmmm. 🤔
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Hope you are well. 🙏🏻
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yes, it’s been a year and we all want it to feel better due to vaccines and so one but i would lie if I said the ‘strangeness of this March’ is gone. There are days when i can’t even remember what it feels like to be truly connected and energised with the world, it’s not just the natures which I see plenty, it’s the diversity of spaces with real people and conversations that I miss. A kind of a long answer to a simple question, I guess. But on the plus side, not even a brush with the illness so being stuck at home has been good to us. I hope you’re ok yourself?
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