During lockdown, violence becomes evident in the world. This poem talks about simultaneous alienation and connection during lockdown times in London.
Lockdown,
tiredness,
cold with a sun
which does not heat,
still possible snow,
my heart is sad.
Helium balloons,
words drift away
along the stretched cirrus clouds
of my mind.
Words, slippery fish,
emerge
and swim away,
Between my hands,
water words drain out
from the imperfect bowl
of my fingers.
Tears remain.
Separated,
alienated at times,
connected with everyone.
Paradox.
Power abuses hurt, harm.
Fearful.
Renewed facisms,
incendiary racisms
domestic violence:
justice becomes
a dream that moves away.
Dead bodies pile up,
the living need to disperse,
one in thirty
can infect you.
At home,
in any city,
in any village,
anywhere,
or in London.
