My father had one arm,
the other cut off
by a tractor.
Walking home from the hospital
alone, at age twelve,
(his parents could spare no one from the farm)
he said to himself,
‘No one will chose Bill
for their baseball team.’
Cut off,
just like that.
This first week of COVID-19 limitations:
Postponing two memorial services
for dear loved friends,
Dead
and for those who cared
for each other.
Visiting nursing homes,
Canceled.
A 92 year old friend,
was recently moved
to a facility
away from friends.
Her son came from Hawaii.
Not allowed.
She wrote to me,
“Outcry against children in cages,
separated from their moms and dads,
but what about sons and daughters
unable to visit their parents,
who are alone.”
Community Theater/Broadway
weeks of rehearsals.
Anticipations.
Audience absent.
Zapped
Libraries
With books waiting to be read
with people needing the internet
and the fulfilling programs
for the public.
Gone
Alanon
Where needy folks meet
Whose alcoholic relatives–
need them to be caring–and
who cannot share their pain
with anyone else
One friend’s dinner
was long, long overdue
had invited me,
having two of three difficult children
as I have.
Two friends,
undocumented
dropped off
the face of the earth
Our congregation
Meeting virtually,
spiritually,
yet not touching
successfully meeting on line
OH
Photo by Branimir Balogović on Unsplash
In another life
One week ago
Friends played jazz in the library
Two others met at a restaurant
before seeing a play about Emmett Till.
Political meetings happened.
A friend’s play had a great reading
in a small theater.
Other friends met and shared the woes
of the country, Yemen,
cooking recipes of that country
and eating together
without a thought of our own hard times.
All suddenly cut off
without life
Seventy years later
my father said
he could feel
his nerve endings
in touch with the dead limb
as though it were still there,
tingling,
and alive.
Written By Georgiana Hart 3/16/20
3ACTunveiled 