Covid-19: Poem

So far for the past few weeks I've found something in the day's events, or in my personal explorings, to relate to Covid-19 in a constructive way. Today, I'm simply tired of it all—the *president's ignorance and narcissism and greed, and the GOP's pandering; the rising numbers of deaths, the fear shimmering everywhere; the fact that so many people were unable to gather in community to celebrate their holidays of Passover and Easter (though people did celebrate, of course they did—even if the community convened via computer screen).

So today I'm simply going to offer a poem that, to me, in a way speaks to what we're going through—or perhaps to "it all."

The Way It Is

William Stafford

There's a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.


And although we can't stop time's unfolding, there are things we do have it in our power to control—one of which would have been, as a nation, to confront this pandemic vigorously and early on. Today a friend posted an 80-page sheaf of emails that were sent by several dozen officials and medical experts starting as early as January 28, trying to impress on our "leadership" what was coming.
They knew . . .

They knew.

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Today the number of confirmed Covid-19 cases in Monterey County rose by another 5 since yesterday, to 87; the number of deaths, thankfully, remains at 3.

Stay inside. Stay vigilant. Stay positive. Stay well.