The Lockdown Blues
A person sitting alone with a laptop on their lap, and the bright light from the screen pouring out.

In this year 2020 it’s Covid 19

By Emma Fuell

It came over from China, so they sayA person sitting alone with a laptop on their lap, and the bright light from the screen pouring out.
But the proven facts change every day
The when, where, why, what endlessly debated
As science and strategy are argued and slated
By those who know better as they stay in their homes
On zoom, facetime, twitter so they don’t feel alone
In the country locked-down as contagion took hold
Of fear and bewilderment and more deaths for the old
And those chronically ill and with darker skin
Such a fiscal, political, social blight we are in
A crowned stately might, a killer unseen
In this year 2020 it’s Covid 19.

Its March toward April beat out the death knell
as lungs gasped their last no one could tell
us when it would end or what to expect
20,000 corpses would in fact net
a “good outcome” a national success
as the curve would have flattened to aid our NHS
Then I heard from dear Lisa that Terry had died
Alone in the night, no-one by his side
As for thousands of others, for her there’s no hugs
nor a cider fuelled wake where she could feel the love
of memories, stories of all that he’s been
In this year 2020 it’s Covid 19.

Downing street briefings, the 2metre rule
Most of the children aren’t going to school
Except for those of key workers, for whom we clap
At 8pm Thursdays when we hurriedly chat
With our dear neighbours with who we’re now friends
Through the whats-app corona club messages sent:
Shopping lists, stories and words of support;
songs from our gardens and music we’ve sought
To unite us through these strange dark sunny days
The big and small changes of new imposed ways
Leaves nature to realize the Great Thunberg dream
In this year 2020 of Covid 19

And then there is work……. I’ve been re-deployed
The masks, gloves and aprons do get me annoyed
I can smile but nobody knows that it’s there
The words that I use to show that I care
Are muffled and covered from those brave worried Mums
As I implore with my eyes and strive to give some
Comfort to those who are finding things hard
Counsel to those with pregnancies marred
By insomnia, miscarriage, flashbacks, abuse,
Exhaustion and home schooling they didn’t choose
Whilst growing new life when all that they hear
Is R rates and death rates and statistics unclear
It’s not what they hoped, “the world feels so mean”
In this year 2020 of Covid 19

Labcentre results of blood, swabs and urine
Less face to face care calls for new ways of working
Triaging, vaccines, mountains of notes
Trakcare, appointments, what’s the aspirin dose?
Referrals, forms, spreadsheets an inbox full of mails
Questions and review to ensure the details
NIPE and blood spots, where was the postman?
Special delivery of repeats when there was none
The reception team bringing us free rounds of coffee
(My waistline is getting progressively squashy)
Josie, Claire, Jill, Emmas, Carolines, Tracey
Tirelessly focussed on ensuring Mums’ safety
A finely tuned unit, a humanitarian machine
In this year 2020 its Covid 19

Trips away cancelled and aeroplanes grounded
Furloughing, closures, mortgage breaks founded
On the basis that this time will not last
And we’ll revert to our lives, all we did in the past
Where we pay keyworkers poorly but fatten the cats
With days full of rushing and no time for chat
Extolling celebs whilst ignoring our neighbours
And teaching our kids life’s purpose is labour
From this worrying stop, this hiatus, this breather
From our distant connect we can all either
Just dwell on the sadness of all that has gone
Or plan to start back afresh and change what was wrong
And with clarity of vision and pride we can scream
That was our year 2020 of Covid 19

By Emma Fuell, 06.06.2020

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