Wednesday, 11 March 2020
Of Poetry and Viruses
There is truth in poetry and viruses.
A virus, for those of you who have not yet pillaged your local Costco for Purell, is a microscopic organism that replicates its DNA in its host, causing suffering and sometimes death. They are contagious and can leave a path of destruction behind.
A poem is beauty and beauty is truth. It leads you to places that you don't see coming and at its best it reveals universals. Contrary to what you might think, poems have a logic. They have a beat, a meter, sometimes a rhyme, that gives the poet and the reader a feeling of control. If the poet wishes, he or she can give a sense of chaos too, simply by changing the way these tools are used. Chaos or control, what matters is when you are in the hands of a good poet, you can trust where they are taking you.
"Covid-19" is a poem. The name itself is musical, making you think of a boat you might buy ("Welcome aboard the Covid-19") or a band you would like to hear ("Ladies and Gentlemen, Covid-19!"). It is a poem because it is revealing, peeling off masks and exposing. It has stripped Mr. Trump, who is virulent, parasitic; replicating the hate within him in others and leaving a path of destruction behind. It has exposed small men in big empty shirts. It has thrown in contrast political ideologies that cannot understand a problem that cannot be solved with a tax cut or a trickle down theory. The sworn enemy of these ideologues, the people in public service, is now the only thing standing between them and chaos.
"Covid-19" is a beautiful poem. It reveals the beauty of humanity. Nurses and Doctors and public health officers (are they all women? It seems so.) who are seen as items on budget lines to be cut in good times walk down halls into the breech. Researchers and lab technicians who toil in fluorescent basements, peer through scopes to find answers. These public servants are our poets and we trust them to bring chaos to order, to bring us back to truth and beauty.
We need these poets to write us a new poem.
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The interior poet at work. A pleasure to experience.
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