Together, Alone

We hike along a way
we’d usually share abreast,
but right now, we each move
together, alone.

The distance is forced and,
as two pendulums in motion would,
we try to match our steps,
try to meet in mind,
mindful of the gap.

A contagion we can’t see
threatens to separate us;
to divide and conquer
by means of infection
is the metaphor of this age.

This disease might save us,
if we could embrace a truth
writ large by the threat:
we live webs of intersections;
as we go, it is together, all one.

© Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

Let’s make foresight 2020

At the Helm

At the sound of a distant bell,
I emerged—shaken like a heavy drop
from some grey storm cloud—
to find myself plopped aboard a barge,
well appointed with cushions, cats
and flagons of tea.

Of any flu suffered,
this surely the most benign,
ranging from cloud-like
to ocean-going,
aching limbs creaking
with each rolling pitch.

When, from this voyage,
I emerge, perhaps
it will be to discover
my cloud was the one
that burst upon our damply
blooming flower-beds.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen