Awoke – a poem for hope

Awoke

by Louise Gallagher



Unseen

stealthy
like a stream

invisible
to the world above

the earth
weakened
by its waters
flowing underground

permeating my thoughts
with dark forebodings

of what might be

if this tiny 
invisible

to the naked eye
microbe
found its way
under my skin.


This fear
invisible and stealthy

has stalked my thoughts
for a year now

clouding my senses
eating lustfully at my joy
and banishing those I love
from my presence.


It is waning
this fear
lulled to sleep
like sleeping beauty
pricking her finger 
on a needle
jabbed into my arm
protecting me 
from its presence.


It is waning

under the influence
of one jab
of hope
flowing
free
as if kissed

by a prince
awakening beauty
from the spell
that cast her asleep
for a hundred years.

Awoke
I walk 
buoyed up

by a powerful potion
casting
fear 
into the waters 
of life

flowing
free
of fearful thoughts
of what might be
if this tiny 
invisible
to the naked eye
microbe
found its way
under my skin.

Since getting my vaccination a couple of weeks ago, I have been thinking about this fear that has stalked my thoughts like an invisible intruder for the past year.

I can feel it easing, feel the lightness of being present without its presence shadowing my every thought… what if I get it? What if my beloved gets it? Will it be the end of us?

One jab of the needle changed all that.

Now, the knowledge that even if one of us gets it, the likelihood of death or hospitalization is greatly diminished has replaced the fear.

There is hope. There is possibility. There is life.

I am grateful for the thousands upon thousands of researchers, scientists, biologists, epidemiologists, doctors, nurses, lab technicians, pharmaceutical companies and everyone involved in making my ease of mind and breath possible.

Thank you.

21 thoughts on “Awoke – a poem for hope

  1. jabbering jab girl,

    great poem – and a great description of that feeling of elation that has we all (the collective WE of those who’ve had a jab) are lighter in our loafers knowing: nobody who has been vaccinated is likely to be in ICU, on a ventilator, or die of COVID-19. It’s the ubiquitous insurance policy. Of course, we aren’t invincible or permanently protected from all perils, but for now, it feels like we are superheroes in the midst of ongoing chaos that grips economies and communities all over the world.

    I await my second jab with far less trepidation than anything I felt in the previous year of nailbiting in hopes of a vaccine and a pandemic-ending.

    m

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I like hearing you read it. I get jab 2 on the 16th, and on May 1 I will be a wild child a-frolicking. My first grandchild is due on May 3. Don’t tell me that’s not divine intervention โค

    P.S. I listened to this one and the "He Gave Her Words" on spotify. Loved hearing you read that also.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Amen to that, Louise! And I know exactly what you mean. The fear was palpable…even though I spent many hours of the day trying not to feel it. I, too, had my first vaccine and it definitely feels different.
    I hope you are well…and that you have a wonderful Easter Sunday โค

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I can’t get my Spotify to work right now, but I really relate to your poem, very well written Louise! I got my first shot and although still skeptical, I am hoping for the best, we all want to go back to some normalcy!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much Tiffany — I had hoped to write a poem a day for this National Month of Poetry – but… am happy to have created a couple thus far — I’ve loved being able to record them! And yes, it is amazing how one jab brings that sense of hope for normalcy!

      Like

  5. I feel like the Debbie downer of the party. If the variants take hold there is not enough research out yet to prove one way or another whether or not it works well against them. I have heard preliminary reports that the brazilian variant is not covered with this one. I feel, sadly, that social distancing and masks are here to stay for quite some time. Very sadly.

    Like

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