‘Circle of light’ and ‘this’

Abstract

These poems were written during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. ‘This' is a poetic paraphrase and development of a piece in The Guardian newspaper.

This

(Based on ‘I am angry. The tide keeps coming’ The Secret Consultant. The Guardian, London. 4 April 2020)

I am angry

We prepared well for this.

Responsive, organised, calm.

Now we are just one other place,

all exhausted. Faces in corridors,

people dying we cannot treat well.

We will be overwhelmed by this.

I am angry

So many of us sick.

Masked with protection it matters not

for people sicken, some will die.

I hope I will not know them.

This perhaps I could not bear.

I am angry

Skeleton teams. Choosing who may live.

These conversations so many a day,

the tiredness eats away.

I fear the coming hours.

Still this tide keeps coming.

I am angry

This I cannot switch off.

At home, at work, in car,

all there is now is this.

All else trivial, monochrome.

How can I care about

my children’s birthdays,

my parents’ loneliness,

when people die needlessly.

Is this to my shame?

I am angry.

Circle of Light

1

Alone

Wynona lost her friend in Arizona.

Fiona’s ties are cut from far Iona

and Rhona is alone in Barcelona.

Sad Jonah loved the gentle Desdemona.

Pneumonia saddens someone in Verona,

and countless know a grief alike Ramona’s

Sick and healers

both have known a

fiercely burning

radiance

of corona.

2

Squares

Bronze lions guard Horatio

while pigeons claim the empty plinth

Austere green benches speechless, dumb

are innocent of commons clash

One cannot hear in Soho Square them

dropping aitches anywhere

The soundless streets where those who once

did love in triangles, live in squares

But still by statute in St James

they clean, adorn and beautify

while from the leafing London planes

the nightingales untroubled sing.

3

Silence

No football cheers and tears from urban sprawl

or sound of nightfall hip-hop and dancehall.

Parks innocent and noiseless,

theatres dumb and voiceless.

Though flour is milled, and gardens tilled,

the shelves are not filled and at borders we’re grilled.

4

Grace

From geostationary orbit

for a moment of earth time

crystal atmosphere holds sway.

Underneath the locking down

distance may not be unsocial,

countenance not always vacant,

gestures prove not empty.

In Los Angeles, Beijing,

around Seattle and Tianjin,

Chicago streets and in Guanzhou,

through Atlanta and Qingdao,

freeways are now free ways,

games are played in gardens,

a child enjoys her home school,

groceries on doorsteps,

clapping sounds at windows

from hands that felt no age.

For kindness is enacting common grace

Notes

Alone

The corona is the outermost part of the Sun's atmosphere – a circle of light. The corona is usually hidden by the bright light of the Sun's surface. However, the corona can be seen during a total solar eclipse. Though I do not use that metaphor in the poem, COVID-19 might be seen as an eclipse of sorts.

Squares

Each couplet in ‘Squares’ refers to a well-known London square and carries various references.

One cannot hear in Soho Square them

dropping aitches anywhere

is an allusion to a song from the Musical ‘My Fair Lady.’

The soundless streets where those who once

did love in triangles, live in squares

This references something attributed to Dorothy Parker of those in the Bloomsbury district who, she apparently said, live in squares, paint in circles and love in triangles.

But still by statute in St James

they clean, adorn and beautify

There is an ancient statute governing the freeholders living in St James Square to clean, adorn and beautify it.

while from the leafing London planes

the nightingales untroubled sing.

This references the song ‘Nightingales sang in Berkeley Square.’

Grace

The closing expression ‘common grace’ is a theological idea. The Wikipedia essay gives a reliable sketch at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_grace though the poem does not rest extensively on the notion.