A colleague and friend died the week before last. I got the news while I was walking on the beach. It was cancer not coronavirus. Either way, her death might be considered just another statistic. But for those of us that knew her it certainly is not - it is real, she is gone, and we will miss her.
The more I have listened to the news in the last few months, the more angry I have felt about the statistics. Coronavirus is killing people not numbers - these are real individuals whose lives had real impact to those around them.
I have written the following poem for those left behind.
When the tide recedes
and we are left with echoes of what was
Look upon the ripples in the sand
Stop
See the salty pools of tears
the broken fragments left by
forty thousand
empty shells
Listen to the voices carried by the wind
angry cries
too little, too late
we never had the chance to say
Goodbye.
When the storm has passed
and the hope-filled rainbows have faded
Remember how this moment felt
Pause
And mould from this gritty clay
something of lasting worth
Sift the fragments
Find the pearl.
