What will I remember from these days,
In twenty years if God spares?
Will I recall each Covid crafted phrase,
The daily toll of family despair?
Will I still hear the Thursday night applause,
Rippling round the neighbourhood,
Lasting legacy of that long pause,
The expression of deep gratitude?
And will I see the kindness of the stranger,
Or the planeless, cloudless skies,
Or feel the threat of clear and present danger,
Sniping at our closed down, captive lives?
Was I right to be guided by the science,
And study what each bar and line graph meant,
To follow with unquestioning compliance,
Like a sniffer dog fixated on a scent?
Will I bring to mind the never ending words,
The rules for life, the warnings,
Or will my memory dwell upon the birds,
Welcoming the unpolluted mornings?
Will I miss the slowtrain snake to Tescos,
Uncoiling queue toward the door,
Reminisce about the timeless tempo,
And the hope of easing lockdown even more?
Will I reflect upon the flattening of the curve,
Or the Donald’s intervention to inject,
The daily prayers that helped me hold my nerve,
The drive to wash my hands and disinfect?
The cruel partnership of peace and sadness,
Bedfellows of each days routine,
The fellowship of facetime closeness,
Divided by the laptop screen?
I don’t know what I will remember,
Or what my reason seeks to rearrange,
Yet I pray from Covid’s dying embers,
I embraced this dark season’s call to change.