Poems for This Time

No Mourning for the Poor

By: Melissa Barber (April 13, 2020)

As the rain falls,Poverty thickens& certain communities are forgotten
& countless bodies are dying.
Self-contained,Fibrotic lungs short of breath& Fever ridden exacerbated muscles aching, crying out for testing that will never comecrying out for portable hospitals that will never be constructed.
One or ten.Grieving hearts are silenced by unmourned, cremated and unburied loved ones.
The plot thickens. 
Medical personnel cross contaminate.

As the rain falls,It’s exposing the pre-existing racismthe pre-existing neglectthe pre-existing corruptionand the consequence.
Countless covid-infested bodies are dying.


The World As We Know it Has Stopped! 

By: Halifu Osumare (March 22, 2020)

The world as we know it has stopped! We are told to social distance, but that we are all in it together

We’re supposed to stand six feet apart, while supporting each other 

The contradictions are a part of the empty streets and closed restaurants

            Online dance classes, instead of sweating together in the studio

            Spiritual webinars instead of Sunday church

We were looking at our phones 

now we’re looking at each other and asking why?

We are quarantined, isolated in these uncertain times

            “But how do we quarantine a tear?”*

We are helping each other to get through this with phone calls, not texts

            With a real smile as we pass each other in the streets,

 But still a smile emoji on an encouraging Facebook post 

            or a reassuring zoom business conference

Is the world ending?

maybe, as we know it 

Giving us a new start?

Bishop T.D. Jakes says,

The Coronavirus is waking us up

about Tribalism, Politics, Race, and even Age

The virus could bring about new Unity

            A resurgence to Re-Examine our Values

            A focus on the Continuity of Love, not Extremism

The world as we know it has stopped!

Now we have a chance to take a deep breath in and out!

and listen to the wisdom of the Ancestors in the Wind that still blows

“How do we quarantine a tear?”