Poem During the Plague: Poem 47

Abigail Bottome recently moved to Plymouth, Massachusetts where she continues to write and spend time observing the natural world. Her PhD dissertation, Walking in Great Marsh, explored the changes to the environment along the Massachusetts coast after the arrival of European settlers. Her focus has shifted to the southeastern coast where the Pilgrims settled on land where the Wampanoags lived for generations. This new environment provides rich opportunities for learning, reflection, and writing. Her poems have appeared in Larcom Review, Ibbetson Street, and Endicott Review among others. A staged reading of her play, Secrets, was presented at The Actor’s Studio of Newburyport under the direction of Marc Clopton. Her novel, Maggie’s Journal, remains unpublished.

What I am learning about grief

(with acknowledgement to NPR for the prompt)

What I am learning about grief

I am learned in grief

Know its contours

depths and lows.

Long ago I donned that garment,

It became part of my wardrobe

Gentle and familiar with time.

This new lesson in grief

contains sharp edges

aspects so scary I shrink.

I cannot trust joy

nor happiness

The road ahead remains dark.

What I am learning about grief

The water in the harbor still charged with sunlight

A dance of sparkling glitter

The sky above still cerulean or cobalt or turquoise.

Dogs still sniff at the brown grass

Runners still run and walkers still walk.

What I am learning about grief

Turning the pages of the magazine

Images of health workers in New York City

Eyes ablaze with worry

Above masked faces

Images from a horror movie

Or Africa

Not here in the greatest country on earth.

So some thought

Though many knew better.

What I am learning about grief

Empty theatre stages, art exhibits, no opera.

What happens to artists

Who live daily through their gifts?

Performance by performance

No audience, no ticket sales, no money.

They rise above this pandemic,

offer performances online, virtual concerts,

A collective world

Of connection and meaning.

What I am learning about grief

Letting go of the what-if, the if only,

the trip that won’t happen.

Instead the sacred space of now

Still, hey, you wonder

What would this spring feel like

without this covid madness?

This sun-filled day like no other

anticipating summertime

walks on the beach, picnics,

dining downtown al fresco

unimaginable innocence,

but this now:

when it’s all returned to normal

it will never be normal again.