[insert “It’s been 84 years” GIF here] It took me two months and many iterations to finish this poem. Gah, damn lockdown! The poem in itself was largely inspired by Mary Oliver, who has been my window to nature’s wonders in the past few months. I’m pretty happy with the final result.

Projects-wise, I’ve been writing a (few) song(s) that I hope I will be able to work on this summer. I will also try to get back into fiction writing, but nobody hold their breath about that. I’m still hoping to self-publish something poetry-related, maybe at the end of the year or the beginning of next.

The time has come for
on the street below
silence cleared a thundering path.

Through closed doors
fear whispers,
twisting hissing tongues into
hushed lies.

Hoarders of truths make
poor lovers.
We are
silly chattering

Quietly, the apocalypse
burst through our window.
But still we are
overflown with
stories, trembling breaths and
unending laughter.