(This poem showed up early this morning, unexpected and uninvited, and volunteered to be my next blog post. I was startled, skeptical, and grateful. I have become preoccupied with the challenge of returning to “normalcy” after my third Covid 19 infection. While I was caught up in the challenge of the discomforts and frustrations of this disease, I was also cognizant of my gratitude for Paxlovid, a gratitude I believe should be a communal one. After reconnecting and reconvening with the Pacific Ocean to conclude my forced absence, I decided to take the poem up on the offer. I have a hunch this poem and my relationship with the Covid 19 virus are related.)
Corridors
The walls exist
to tell me
these are corridors,
mere corridors.
I stumble through,
crumble through,
ricochet off the walls:
I find purchase and direction
in the corridors.
The end point lacks light
so I (half-hearted) try, create it;
I struggle then to pay attention,
to notice thunder-free lightening
(on occasion)
within the corridors.
"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain."
-Vivian Greene -
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