Twenty-two
The year begins well here
with much needed rain
and tee-shirt temperatures.
In Twenty-one, words
abandoned me. Silence
reigned. No poems visited
my dome of bone. My
network of streets
shrank yet further.
Precarity and loss prevailed.
Estrangement intensified
as we kept count of those
dead and gravely ill.
Covid conquered us
in ways we'd never seen.
Twenty-two begins in hope
and dread, in vaccine
and Omicron. We cannot
know what awaits. We
can but guess and keep
a small faith in what
Providence may bring.
Let me strive to find a
language again and
to reclaim the
thoroughfares that
once were mine.
01.01.2022
with much needed rain
and tee-shirt temperatures.
In Twenty-one, words
abandoned me. Silence
reigned. No poems visited
my dome of bone. My
network of streets
shrank yet further.
Precarity and loss prevailed.
Estrangement intensified
as we kept count of those
dead and gravely ill.
Covid conquered us
in ways we'd never seen.
Twenty-two begins in hope
and dread, in vaccine
and Omicron. We cannot
know what awaits. We
can but guess and keep
a small faith in what
Providence may bring.
Let me strive to find a
language again and
to reclaim the
thoroughfares that
once were mine.
01.01.2022
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Author's Note
First new poem in a very long time.
Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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To listen to the silence begins to give it voice. Good work, keep it coming.
Thank you, David.
"to reclaim the/thoroughfares that/once were mine".
Very moving, Gary. Beautifully said.
Thank you, Erika.
Yes!
Thank you, Dianne.
Throughly to the point, exquisite that way. And special added attraction,"No poems visited my dome of bone." Great.*
Thank you, Tim.
Sounds like writing evaded you sometimes, but did not effect the quality. "dome of bone" - yes
Well, a nice reclaiming of your poetic "thoroughfares," Gary. Let's all hope for the hope of 22!
Thank you, Angela.
Thank you, Ed.
*
Thank you, Sam.