Lest we forget who’s in charge

They have been several of the strangest weeks of my life. Weird in so many ways. There are moments of anxiety. What day is today? Other times I ask myself if I should, or shouldn’t, go to the market, something I did regularly to get food and prepare that night’s dinner. And then I look inside my refrigerator and realize how spoiled I am, how much food I still have there, and in my pantry… so why risk it — for myself and others. Stay home, there’s no need to go out.

I sit on my balcony. How lucky I am; it’s a nice terrace with a view of a small marina that leads to Biscayne Bay. It’s spring and the birds are chirping and doing their thing. All going crazy hunting for nesting materials, the next generation is about to be born. A f…ing iguana on top of a tree by my balcony, probably hunting for one of those birds’ freshly laid eggs. 

Nature surrounds me. The sky is a perfect pastel blue with just a few clouds. At twilight the heavens turn colors that are hard to describe, but looking at them reminds me of what someone once told me: God and the nature he created is the finest art you will ever see. Picasso, DaVinci, van Gogh, oh they were great, but not even they can compare…

And then I receive a text from my sister. She has sent me a beautifully written poem which clearly details so many thoughts I’ve had a hard time putting to words. I text her back and ask who wrote it. “Don’t know,” she answers. “It’s good,” I text her back. “No; it’s very good,” she insists.

My sister in California chimes in a few hours later. Apparently it is some clever and talented person who has taken a poem written in 1869 by Kathleen O’Meara, a poem later reprinted during the 1919 Spanish Flu Pandemic. This person’s made it his or her own, this time expressing thoughts about the 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic. 

Here are the words:

We fell asleep in one world,

and woke up in another.

Suddenly Disney is out of magic,

Paris is no longer romantic,

New York doesn’t stand up anymore,

the Chinese wall is no longer a fortress, 

and Mecca is empty.

 

Hugs and kisses suddenly become weapons,

and not visiting parents and friends becomes an act of love.

Suddenly you realize that power, beauty and money are worthless,

and can’t get you the oxygen you’re fighting for.

 

The world continues its life and its beauty.

It only puts humans in cages.

I think it’s sending us a message:

 

“You are not necessary.

The air, earth, water and sky without you are fine.

When you come back, remember that you are my guests.

Not my masters.”