Welcome to QWF series ‘Chronicling the Days’, specifically for this strange uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.
In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story – of a single day at this time, because while we’re all living through this time, we know that we’re not all living through it in the same way. To stay connected – to know how we’re getting on. Every story valid.
Submissions have now closed for the series but we’ll be continuing to publish the pieces throughout May. Keep an eye for them here, or join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.
On Saturday, May 2, 2020, we have a Chronicling the Days poetry special. With thanks to Tanya Bellhumeur-Allatt, Jocelyne Dubois, Jeffrey Mackie-Deernsted, Barbara Kelly, Ann Lloyd, and Carol Katz for their contributions.
Survival Plan – Tanya Bellehumeur-Allatt
Wake up early.
Write a poem.
Let it have angst, but also,
give the poem hope,
like a sticky drop
of maple syrup.
Drink it
like an elixir.
Enjoy it
for a moment.
Let it linger
like the cinnamon scent
of cider warming
on the wood stove.
Think about
tomorrow’s poem
while you walk
along the road
with the dog.
Greet the birds,
newly returned.
Listen to them.
Gather all this
in your heart
like a round, white stone
tucked into your pocket
or a raven’s feather
in your buttonhole.
Treasure it.
And then,
tomorrow morning,
begin again.
*
PLAGUE – Jocelyne Dubois
We sit two metres apart
I doodle & have naps in the afternoon
The phone rings more
friends checking in
some lonely
“Be safe” they say “be safe”
I need prescriptions renewed
dental checkups
all cancelled
The streets are deserted
but grocery stores crowded
no pasta left on the shelves
We will get through this, I tell myself
with help from internet & phone
I read more
paint more
cook more
write more
I listen to you
*
ONE WEEK IN – Jeffrey Mackie-Deernsted
Fragile emotions. New instructions every hour.
No hands touched Digital counter on the population
Sunlight
Surfaces at the end of winter
Salted concrete dried crusts concrete not bread
Amusements grow old quickly
As we grow old slowly
On the TV
Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club Pretty in Pink
Relive your adolescence
With your significant other
That would be just ducky.
*
An Afternoon in Week 5 – Barbara Kelly
Body on a couch
blue blanket, pulled up close
photographs long ignored
faces on the table, in boxes,
rejects on the floor.
Pink tulips thirsty
or just tired.
TV buzzing news.
Outside, barren branches
large patches of snow
in slow retreat
murky grass, last year’s leaves,
a dark squirrel nibbles.
Body rolls over
stands
walks to the kitchen
crackers, chips, wine,
phone,
ipad once more
chopped-onion tears.
TV buzzing news:
transmission, lack of equipment, the rising curve, expert opinions,
the pleas
of politicians.
And the journalists,
body’s new friends
with bags under their eyes,
despite the make-up.
Dehydrated, soiled, abandoned,
the elderly are dying
despite it all.
*
A TIME TO BLESS AND REASSESS – Ann Lloyd
Now trapped at home
look back, look back
on happy days
and then compute
as I was told so many years ago
with marriage
60/40 is OK
40/60 not so much
So recheck your coming freedom soon
And let your joyous happy days
Exceed the rest
Plan ahead and reassess
Then you’ll be blest
*
The Sound of Silence in the Time of COVID-19 – Carol Katz
This time silence has no sound.
A post-apocalyptic town.
People staying in their homes,
thinking about their health and woes
when social-distancing is the norm,
nowhere to roam.
Abandoned to the birds and pigeons.
And the people bowed and prayed
that the cure won’t be delayed.
Worshipping from indoors
to Gods like mine and yours.
Voices sharing sounds
From distant lands
not holding hands
To the sound of silence.
No restaurants are open now
No swimming in a row.
Where do I get exercise?
Walking in the sun is wise.
But keeping two meters
from my friends,
wave my hands,
slowing the spread
of the Corona Virus.
Through silent streets
I walk alone,
staring at the cobblestones.
People standing at their windows
wanting company at their doors.
But the silence of the streets
are cold and damp, dark is the lamp,
whispering in the sound of silence.
One day we’ll all be well,
silence sounding like a bell.
I’ll walking on busy streets,
people’s faces smiling to the beat
of songs that are flowing from their lips, with a kiss,
Embracing the end of the Corona Virus.
