WALKING IN THE DAYS OF THE VIRUS
(#1 To the forest)
On the path to the forest
before they deploy the drones
with their remote temperature sensors
kerosene sprays
and I refuse to imagine what else
The air of the city edge sweeter than usual
A faint reminder of the bliss it was
to breathe in the vicinity
of the Korean DMZ
If tomorrow is postponed for two weeks
so be it
24 hours were never enough
to seize the day or night
A few solitary walkers
keeping a respectful distance
in silent solidarity
At some point I’ll dare to believe this
My doff of the hat
and Moïen-Bonsoir
are not returned
70s folk rock in the ears
legs and arms strolling
jamming with my shadow
air drums, air guitar, air piano
pretending to be the musician
I suffocated as a kid
A cargo plane climbing over the green
every few hundred steps
Ħanini I miss you
Thank you, gap in the tree line
for accepting me so easily
May there be no irony
in this scent of early spring
No need for the branches to salute me
No need for the wind to shake them
Our understanding goes back years
The waters of the Alzette
seem clearer this evening
but I haven’t been here for a while
Uphill, downhill
with the waves of the music
opening the veins of the legs
inflating the lungs like sails
Sing
Sing with respect for the trees
Sing without acting like an inebriated tourist
Sing from the balcony of the diaphragm
Sing for those too scared to come out
for the migrant workers who didn’t make it home on time
for the nurses and doctors on the front line
for stewards and pilots exposed
to the new meaning of cabin fever
Sing for the long-distance lovers
for the teachers forced into solitude
for the children who just learnt
their imaginary scythes are real
for the great-grandmother who lost her legs
to the slow handsaw of sugar
Sing for my ballerina cousin
cooped up in the metropolis
leaping across the tiny Atlantic
between shuttered window and kitchenette
Set your subversive lungs free
but keep the volume down
Sing till the tears block your throat
Breathe, people, breathe
The leaves are on their way
Empty streets on the way back
Almost a waste of a sunset
A pack of tissues on the ground
winks at me like a 50 euro note
I might need that next week
or for tonight’s weep
Better to resist and walk on
I turn left
even where I don’t feel like it
just to make the walk
a few streets longer
Let’s return to the desk
Tonight on Radju Twanny
they’re playing non-stop prog rock
Paper, pencil,
roll-ups and rum
It’s gonna be a measured, marvellous
one-man planetary party
---
#timezones #walking #covid19
