Poem: Mid-December

Mid-December

 

It’s harder to hear

what everyone is saying

because of the masks

muffling so much

of the usual exchanges,

but a few things

slip through:

“Stay safe,”

“I’ll call you later,”

“Okay, baby, thank you,”

and in Harlem, on 125th Street,

an echo of a man

walking west and singing,

“Alleluia, alleluia.”

 

I wish I had a turn,

something wise to declare,

to inoculate us against

the feeling of Here

We Go Again—and

everything else—

but all I have is that

unexpected but welcome 

“Alleluia, alleluia.”

 

© Susan Thomsen, 2021

*****

The Poetry Friday roundup is at Jone Rush MacCulloch's blog.

Comments

[Mary Lee]

That Alleluia will be enough to carry us through...especially if we all join in!

[Susan]

Mary Lee, yes, a little something small to hold onto!

[Linda Baie]

It feels like some hope for NYC & all the rest of us who wait for that other shoe to drop. Happy Holidays, Susan!

[Susan T.]

And to you, too, Linda! I have really enjoyed participating in Poetry Friday again after a many-year hiatus.

[Michelle Kogan]

Thanks for hearing, holding and sharing those “Alleluia, alleluia.” And I welcome more of them, let's look for more light at the end of our winter tunnel… The alleluia also reminds me of Leonard Cohen's song too.

[Susan T.]

Michelle, yes, more light! I thought of Leonard Cohen, too. It's often those moments of "What's he saying?" that make the best lines to borrow from passers-by.

[Karen Edmisten]

I'll hang tight to that hopeful Alleluia, too, Susan. Thanks for this.

[Susan T.]

You're so welcome, Karen.