COVID-19, as many of my readers know, was the worst thing that ever happened to me. The virus, in September 2020, wrecked my body, mind, and soul. It robbed me of the energy I once had. And after having COVID-19 I was never the same. I wrote a whole survivorship series on here, but if I’m being real, I survived, but I never fully recovered and healed. Four years later, I have gotten out my COVID-19 journal. A record of the 2020 year, complete with detailed symptom trackers, long-term leave notes, and more. What caught my eye, and moved me to tears was a poem I wrote that never saw the light of day. I think it lends itself to the conversations being had during 2020, and to the grief of that time.
This poem never saw the light because I forgot about it in the haze of my COVID brain and didn't want it to be taken out of context. But in the wake of my fourth anniversary, I thought I’d post it to honor myself and the many others who lost their lives during the COVID-19 Pandemic. They may have physically departed this earth, or they may have changed irreversibly. They may be living in the grief of losing a loved one, or in the ambiguous grief chronic illness creates. If you are someone who thinks daily about what we lost, who we lost, and the rush we had to “return to normal” all too soon, I’m with you. I see you. And I won’t forget.
Disclaimer, this poem is an analogy and an in-depth look into the conversation that happens often within the BIPOC American diaspora, especially when it comes to government trust. It in no way is meant to deter anyone from accessing preventative healthcare. I encourage you to get both your flu and COVID-19 vaccine boosters this fall season. Check out how to get those at this website: https://www.vaccines.gov/en/
The Vaccine
What I know to be true is a lie
America, who are you?
How do you justify 1,219,487 lost lives?
How do you possibly say goodbye?
Stealing a child's parent
Stripping away innocence
Because of government dissonance
Individual interests
Human life lacks significance
Lack of trust,
growing contention
Interference in my organs
But no plans for public health interventions
Continual efforts to distract from problems
Redirecting our attention
To offset the consequential tensions,
in a sick, unemployed nation
What is the mission of the system?
Protection, non-exsistent
Data collection, tracking consistent
Unemployment statistics beginning to fuel the resistance
This is a post-Obama era that could not be foreseen
It feels as though we are eating soylent green
Making room in an overpopulated world
With plastic-filled, oil-spilled oceans
All while we worry about Twitter cancelations
The child with no mother
Would you trust the government?
What about George Floyds' daughter?
A child with no father
A father, whose life didn't matter
While in the hands of our public ‘protectors’
How can you trust the government?
When you see complacency in
the unnecessary, preventable losses
In January, when it comes, I might refuse.
Systematic abuse may be infused in the serum.
The oppression goes unseen
I know the importance
But the intentions of the machine are
certainly not to protect against disease
Say no, resist, do not get the vaccine.
Photos from that time.
September 2020
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