“Central Avenue, Thursday”
A Poem
I fear death, like you do, and I fear pain too,
And I fear gasping for breath and finding none.
But I will not be afraid of you, neighbor, friend.
I will not be afraid of your body, your breath;
I will not be afraid of your dreams, your aching heart
And the uncertainty that makes us both stutter in the street.
I will not be afraid of you. This is my prayer.
I understand the strategies, the ideas:
The quarantine, the social distance,
And all the ways we should not enjoy
One another’s presence, one another’s holiness.
I understand that I may carry this menace,
Though I know it not, and that’s a danger to all.
But I don’t like it, I don’t like what it’s doing to us.
And I will not be afraid of you. Yes, this is my prayer.
I get it: the virus is a monster and it’s
Chewing its way through Italy and Spain,
And through Seattle and Manhattan and,
Eventually, it’ll come for me too:
For my college town, and my beloved community,
And the old man in the barber shop who makes me laugh.
But I will not be afraid of him. Oh, this is my prayer.
He makes my world warm and wild, sacred and sweet.
What really scares me is the temptation in me,
To turn away from my sister, who walks my way
In the middle of town, who comes to me:
And I’m inclined to turn aside, to hold my breath.
That will kill me, I think, that kind of fear,
As if the whole point of this human sojourn
Is the accumulation of days and years, like stocks and bonds,
As if turning aside when my sister walks my way
Is a sophisticated move, a way to win beat the game.
I’m afraid of that. That’s the thing. It unnerves me.
Lead me not into tempation.
This is my prayer.
Lead me not into tempation.
This is my prayer.
DGJ
3/19/20
Dover, New Hampshire
