Life in quarantine has many challenges, not the least of which is motivation. This poem explores impetus, drive, planning and purposefulness; all of it coming from invisible places inside us.
Let us not lose hope or dim our lights when all around us screams at us to do so.
What if I told you
What if I told you of a man,
who cautiously patents his days, pressed
like flowers in a book?
A man who rolls out his life in hours
like dried tobacco leaves, inhalation of a
hope, seen but never felt.
What if I told you there was
a peddler in impatient thoughts?
He travels light but burrows heavily
down, down and down again.
In a parsonage of promises, he stocks
well-peppered seasons of sweat in dreams.
What if I told you to mind
the gap between the see-saw
of intention and deflection?
It doesn’t move fast enough to blame
fear or mistrust, but too fast to note
progress or potential.
What if I told you there was one
whose animus, stolen or unmoved,
finds no spark for fires even blind men feel?
Is it hibernation or evolution;
asleep or merely astute, above all these
What if I told you that man was me?