What is real, true "health"?
We've spent so much time just getting by
In bustling schedules and punishing circumstance.
Now, under lock down
We're forced to look at our health anew.
Overnight, the stress of work became
The stress of no-work.
The governors have spoken:
We have nothing to do but take care of ourselves.
But what does that even mean?
I feel I should stare less at screens,
But I'm glued to tweets and feeds and press conferences
That shake angry tears from me without permission.
I need sunshine and kindness,
Salads & pressed juice,
But the beaches and trailheads are dangerously hectic,
And I'm hoarding dried pasta and bread.
The grocery store
For so long, was my happy place.
Now every passerby
And piece of fruit, is suspicious.
It's hard not to feel trapped in my home,
And overwhelmed in public.
Assessing unseen germs on every surface,
Calculating hug and handshake allowance.
Accepting potentially dire consequences
Every time I touch my face.
Out of necessity now,
Instead of curiosity or desire.
Because if I don't,
I might panic in the afternoon.
I'm drawing, and grooving to records
Singing as if my existence depended on it.
I'm cleaning, I'm cooking,
I'm keeping myself present...
Things that used to feel like little celebrations of life
Reduced to coping mechanisms.
Health means something different now.
We can no longer plunge ahead.
We must tip toe
From one moment to the next,
Perpetually on the look out
For unseen particles and unclean objects.
Sky-limit science reduced
To grim daily statistics.
To phone calls and texts only.
I'm taking nothing for granted anymore.
I'm seeing deep care and awareness
In corners never looked to before.
I'm drinking water
And keeping my spirits up
For whatever this is.
I'm learning that health, mental or physical
Is felt from our innermost cells
Through a community of billions
To our outermost universe.
I am breathing
And resting in
A new definition of health.