Easter Sunday Sonnet During the Pandemic
(April 12, 2020)
we drive by a procession of cars
at the local mall
where volunteers load donated food
into empty trunks
contactless communion
elsewhere farmers dump gallons of milk
into manure pits
plough tonnes of ripe vegetables
break a million eggs
what if the miracle of jesus feeding multitudes
wasn’t god’s endless provision
but the gospel of human generosity
what if we can resurrect each other
full of mutual grace
Thanksgiving Sonnet During the Pandemic
Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi (November 25, 2020)
my wife zooms with her family on maui
while i call my parents in california
this is the first thanksgiving we don’t travel
long lines at airports
even longer lines at food banks
friends upload pictures of abundant meals
on social media but for some
this is a national day of mourning
for others just another day of hunger
i pose the photogenic turkey
mashed potatoes & green beans
on the table #nofilter
yet my privileged gratitude feels so selfish
amidst thousands of empty chairs
The Vyrus
(a mutation of William Blake)
Vyrus! Vyrus! burning blight
Epicenter of our plight,
What infected blood or bite
Inflamed our frail immunity?
In what species farmed or wild
Jumpt the genes of thine cells?
Thru what veins dare you respire?
What the crown, dare spike the fever?
And what protein, & what tongue,
Could tear the tissue of our lungs?
And when our hearts failed to beat,
What dread co-morbidity?
What the model? what the curve?
In what vaccine is thy cure?
What the treatment? what death toll
Dare your victims die alone?
When the doctors all collapsed,
And plead’d heaven for more masks:
Did he weep his war to see?
Did he who made Disease make me?
Vyrus! Vyrus! burning blight,
Epicenter of our plight,
What infected blood or bite
Inflamed our frail immunity?