The dead are piling up.

I came across a draft poem in one of my journal entries from April of last year. I don’t hate it. I’ve been reviewing last year’s diaries to see what life was about. I was depressed most of the time. This resulted in a great deal of boring. To be fair, there was cancer and a pandemic.  

I’d like this year to be more interesting. “Good” interesting, not Chinese curse interesting. The year of reduced waste and copious excitement. The latter might be challenging considering the current state of reality but it’s something to work towards.

 The dead are piling up.
  The dead are piling up like dishes in the sink. 
  The hospitals are full and so is the counter space,
  And nothing is as different as it seems.

Photo credits: header graphic is the rate of COVID infections in Ontario, Canada from CP24. I cropped it for aesthetics. The second photo is by Gustavo Basso via Getty Images (Scientific American).

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow


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