“Has my radical hysterectomy made me less radical?”
A Poem for a Time of COVID-19 Quarantine 🦠
This poem—penned by a UU minister—has been circulating among my Jewish congregation, and I’m inclined to endorse the advice: Take a page from the Jewish playbook, folks. We know a thing or two about surviving long (quasi-)confinement and social distance.
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath— the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down. And when your body has become still, reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are terrifying and beautiful. (You could hardly deny it now.) Know that our lives are in one another’s hands. (Surely, that has come clear.) Do not reach out your hands. Reach out your heart. Reach out your words. Reach out all the tendrils of compassion that move, invisibly, where we cannot touch. Promise this world your love— for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, so long as we all shall live.
—Rev. Dr. Lynn Ungar (Unitarian minister)
I can’t for the life of me recall why I wrote this…
… or properly explain why I’m sharing it now:
This Is Just To Say
it was that kinda party
and so I stuck my dick in
the mashed potatoes
you were probably
it was kinda weird
and so cold
(see also “Beastie Boys – B-Boys Makin’ with The Freak Freak” and the original Mantan Moreland comedy album source material)