Transmission

By Tim Newson

You, me, him ,her,
Contact that was just a blur,
A breath, a laugh, a sigh,
A simple embrace is enough to die

The deadly killer danced and thrived,
In the human abattoirs it felt alive,
Playing among the residents everyday,
Corridors of humanity left to pray,
We all looked on as the death toll was told,
The price of our ghettos to house the old,
The killer is on the loose,
Passing each one of us offering a noose

You, me, him ,her,
Contact that was just a blur,
A breath, a laugh, a sigh,
A simple embrace is enough to die.

Wash your hands wear a visor,
Stop the dance by being wiser,
The killer though demanded more,
So, we locked our front and back door,
Abattoirs were closed from the outside
Social segregation became part of the ride,
The killer kept trying to open the gate,
In desperation it began to mutate,
When will this all end,
Perhaps when Death becomes a friend.
Old age is not to be a ghetto existence,
But a passage of dignified persistence,
Age is not at any price,
That leads to Existing and a meaningless life,
The killer has laid this bare,
The need for meaning as well as care

You, me, him ,her,
Contact that was just a blur,
A breath, a laugh, a sigh,
A simple embrace is enough to die

This poem one of six called collectively “Diving into the vanquished ocean of calamity“ Transmission looks at the pandemic and impact  on older generation especially those in care homes.

My personal experience of the care for the elderly had  made me concerned about our care homes and what they offer the older generation. It made me question the meaning of life especially when you are old and frail.  The pandemic brought this into close focus with my experience of the devastating  impact of COVID on residents in care homes. Poetry gave me an outlet.

The poem was difficult to write but came from deep inside and my feeling that old age frailty is about meaning and quality of life not quantity.