“Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity," wrote T.S. Eliot. To help make productive use of our self-isolation and social distancing, Lit Cleveland is offering free writing challenges each week via our newsletter. The following piece is a response to the "How To" prompt.
How to Navigate a Pandemic
by Marci Rich
There is no fastest route
the trip will take as long as it will take
but here you’re in luck
there is no traffic
on your sidewalk
on your drive
on your front porch
on your back patio
or your lawn, marked
by hyacinths,
their waxen ivory trumpets
a multitude of heralds
that fought
and broke
free
to the warmth
of the April sun.
Recalculating,
enter the doors
leading inside
stay
follow the path
from room
to room to room
take any exit
from one room to another room
to another
take the only exit
back to the garden
where grow
the Lenten Roses
the hellebores—
anachronistic
first syllable
for such a lovely plant—
painfully lovely,
dusky-rose petals
and blood-red stems,
a Good Friday color.
Another flash of red dashes
across the pines—the cardinal
flies towards his mate, then
waits while you
enter the door
to the kitchen
to tend the soup:
skim the bony foam from the broth—
color of marrow—
sprinkle the peppercorns,
the cleansing parsley,
the charming onions
hum to the soft sounds
of dinner cooking.
You may merge
onto the path
for a walk,
to breathe through
your mask for the sake
of breathing, to feel
the sun for what it is—
warmth and light and irony.
To watch the wind
sway the branches
of the Bartlett pear tree,
their buds
hopeful against the impossible
blue of the sky.
Dress yourself. Or not.
Read a book. Or not.
Study the pantry shelves
like a poem filled
with mysteries
until you have arrived.
