Member-only story
The Worried Well
Poetry
Ignore those that make you fearful and sad, that degrade you back towards disease and death. Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
Gripped by the foreboding
Of a nascent dread
We watched as our liberties
were stripped away
Whilst chains of transmission
Decreased the space where some felt safe.
Forced many back between four walls
Appalled at their own weakness.
The worried well can go to hell.
As the light fades ever faster,
And the temperature dips
Below freezing — I am recalled
To a dialogue with the dead
That takes place inside my head.
My grandfather, Jack,
Volunteered for France at a mere 16
It had a romance the back streets
Of a railway town lacked.
That romance proved not to be fact
when he fought behind barricades of corpses.
I knew him when he was my age now
His was my first funeral.
Sometimes I am possessed by
Jack’s spirit: his impatience and his ability
To see right through hypocrisy and cowardice.
Yes, indeed, the worried well can go to hell.
