THE BOOK OF DEBORAH EASTER MUSINGS

I’m wondering what the people will be like when all the corralling is over. After the doors are flung open, the masks thrown away, the fear forgotten.

Maybe some folks will be more like me and not be so intimate with the hugs and kisses. Possibly those who threw their used gloves and masks, and emptied the trash from their cars on the ground of the store parking lot will be a bit embarrassed about their actions. They might even snub their cigarettes out in their vehicles ashtray instead of tossing them out the window.

I’m not very hopeful. I was a cockeyed optimist. The glass half full kind of mentality, but it’s getting so difficult. The horrid sights of what is happening all around me can not be unseen when I close my eyes. I find I have to fight to quiet my mind. My heart sometimes feels like it will erupt through my chest at the stupidity and, worse, the savageness of humanity.

I know your thinking we don’t need all this negative self-reflection now, but we do. I remember the image of a group of gun-toting protesters who wanted to have their Governors reopen the states for business. Were they thinking they would shoot the virus if it came near them, or were they trying to threaten the cautious among us?

I couldn’t help but put a post up on Facebook, returning their stupidity with an insulting idea of my own. It went:

Hey Protesters, I don’t need to hold my Springfield in front of me like a Viagra hardened penis to prove how serious I am about personal distancing. If only my nurse granddaughter could deny you and your family when Mr. Corona creeps up your unmasked nose.

It seemed FB took it down pretty quick, but I wanted to add. I would like to load my 9mm shells with common sense gray matter and drill a hole in your forehead. You’re not and never will be essential. Stay the f… home.

A PERSONAL REFLECTION FROM EASTER 2020

The season is in as much turmoil as our lives

Am I an arrested Winter or a Spring blooming death

My earth feels lighter, my air cleaner, my future still unsure

Wild creatures return in abundance while the public society is still

Canal waters are empty of boats allowing room for the wildlife to swim

The debris-free skies carry the blue across the horizon

Sun shined white clouds float next to water-filled grey

Mountains appear from behind the foreboding curtains of polluted darkness

Trees are budding real leaves, not the artificial sloganed plastic bags

hailing the “please come again soon” and polite “thank yous”

Quiet roads are not so littered with the assaulted and dead

The busy sounds of insects buzzing and the birds alluring songs can be heard

Nests made of metal hangers built by the resourceful crows confound

Now they can line them with the soft and natural

Horses dreaming of the next time they race

This time the open gate may be a lasting escape

If only’s, have me in a quandary of improbable possibilities

how come we have become unreasoning, stunted, and mean

Rich in our abundant poorness and wealthy in soulless denial

Our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts closed to wellness

The planet is slowly healing during our time of sickness

Dare I ask, hopefully, whatever you are, heal us too