Poem for the Bedridden by Aurora Levins Morales
In times to come
When the generations look back
On the Great Uprising of 2020
And speak of the people in the streets,
the people healing wounds, cooking food,
Making signs,
Because so much will have changed by then
They will also speak our names, the ones
Who could not join the crowds
Or write manifestos
Or cook vats of soup
Or deliver supplies,
Whose fields of action were our beds,
Our chairs set by the windows
Where we could watch you march by.
They will say these are the ones
Who carried the consequences of the bad old days
In their bodies, who shouldered the harm
In lungs that wheezed, in guts that churned,
In aching muscles and crushing fatigue,
Whose hearts burned beside our own
As the old world fell, and as we marched
And toppled monuments and governments,
Did the work of resting
For the sake of the whole new world.
During my ten weeks of rest I came to see time differently and pondered the meaning of normalcy.
In late April the sun inched away from the horizon. On its daily journey east to west it was also moving higher in the sky with each passing day. In May and June the arc continued to bend towards the north. And late in June the sun began heading south again.
Every day the temperature rose and fell as the light moved across the room, the plants and furniture changing, reflecting the sunlight in constantly shifting ways. I listened to the sounds of my neighbors in the hallway, their voices, doors closing, small dogs barking.
Some afternoons clouds filled the sky, adding and subtracting colors. There was rain, too, with its many sounds and rhythms.
With so many people staying home, their cars idle, the air became cleaner and the colors sharper.
The time clocks were idle as well.
It turns out time is not measured by the number of hours we work or what we produce. Raindrops are a better measure, and the quality of light.
Under capitalism we clock in and clock out. We are allowed a certain number of sick days and then we can't be sick anymore. But healing has its own schedule. It doesn't have a schedule.
Getting cured forces us back into conformity. The society says, "Get well so you can be produc-tive and the system of profit making can run smoothly".
Some people's bodies, however, don't fit this model.
A friend says Covid has ripped the cataracts off of our eyes. Now we clearly see the injustice and dysfunction threaded through our sick society. Capitalism is a public health risk. Racism is a danger to our health and right now hunger for normalcy is making people do stupid things.
It has been 113 days since I noticed the first symptoms. My ability to think is slowly returning and I now have enough energy to work several hours a day. When the "brain fog" lifts, I'm astonished by the miracle of thinking and grateful for life. I don't know if I will fully recover, though I certainly hope I do. I don't know what "normal" will look like but I wish for all of us that nothing is normal again. Instead, may we create our lives anew, knowing what is essential and what is not, sparkling with curiosity and enthusiasm for the task ahead.