Kathleen McPhilemy

Oxford, UK

 

Kathleen McPhilemy grew up In Belfast but now lives in Oxford. She has published three collections of poems and her work has appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies.

 

Poem completed on 20th April, 2020

 

Catching our Breath

 

Easter Sunday and predictably

Jesus has risen; predictably

the gardens are full of blossom

and on the path by the park

catkins are greeny and silver;

less predictably, the skies

are clean and clear and empty

the playground is locked and empty;

the weekend has been breathtakingly lovely

for those with breath for the taking.

 

Utterly strange and changed:

do we miss the engine of capitalism

now that it has stuttered and stopped?

We look towards summer and autumn

for normal to come back but normal

may be a normal utterly changed:

we have seen the goodness of people

and we have seen the lies of a government

that  disregarded its scientists

and was happy for the weakest to die.

 

Under the sun an enormous quietness;

out of the sun, predictably

an increase in hatred and violence

enclosed in narrowing walls;

less predictably, acts of kindness

everywhere from ordinary people;

and behind those doors that are closed

out of sight of the healthy

shut away from the sun

extraordinary acts of courage.

 

Drifting in this strange narcosis

don’t we know who is dying? -

the expendable old, replaceable carers

the pickers, the packers, the drivers

the cleaners, the orderlies, the porters

underpaid and underprotected

while the privileged work from home;

don’t we know this was predicted

and ignored to get Brexit done?

 

Unpredictable when and how we will rise

unpredictable if and how we will change:

will we learn to reward the ordinary

to build homes for ordinary heroes

make space for all to breathe?

Probably not; much more likely

patched up with some bodged repairs

the machine will lurch into action

backwards to the City of Destruction

backwards with all flags waving.