Writing the Apocalypse: The Sixth Stage of Grief

June 4: Terrence Floyd, brother of the late George Floyd, speaks at memorial service, Cadman Plaza Park, Brooklyn. “I’m proud of the protests. I’m not proud of the destruction…Power to the People.” | Photo by Puma Perl, taken virtually

“Writing the Apocalypse” is a weekly series featuring the poems, essays, and recollections of Puma Perl, with subject matter influenced by her experiences as a NYC resident during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The Sixth Stage of Grief | By Puma Perl

Part I

At first, there were no dreams

Just a jagged jet lagged sleep

Hours lose meaning

when there’s nowhere to go

 

Without an outside,

what’s left on the inside?

 

Stages of grief pass

 

Denial

Watching Italians

sing on their terraces

in other worlds,

their worlds,

not our worlds

 

Bargaining

Maybe we’re okay

if we do this

or we don’t do that

Can you hear us

if nobody’s there?

 

Anger

People die

They knew

They did nothing

and more people die

and we are not okay

and they knew

 

Depression

Loss of money

Friends, self,

lives, fighting

our way out

of long days

without clocks

 

Acceptance

of who and where

we are and stand,

but what is left?

 

Who am I

without a poem

on a stage,

a black leather jacket,

my back against the wall,

my reflection in your eyes,

dark hair and red lipstick?

 

I am alone,

and suddenly it’s May

What happened to winter

and my silver boots,

my shot glass on the bar,

the faces I look for

the drums and bass,

how do I move

through shapeless days,

miles from desire

and determination?

 

Am I really here?

 

Why do I breathe

when others cannot?

 

Names, written

in black markers

on ribbons

and white paper

hang from walls

and fences

around the city

 

People buy

Margaritas to-go

and get haircuts,

ride bicycles,

get drunk in parks

 

I drink too much,

eat dark chocolate

with my whiskey

I seek inspiration

from the river,

color my hair,

read books

and do planks

 

The dog plays tricks

and makes me laugh

 

When I’m asked

what I have learned

I hope I can say

a bit of patience,

a mustard seed

of hope

 

Part II

 

Right now,

we move into another stage

of grief and rage and shock

and sadness and action

 

Words crawl,

fall into quicksand,

a hand waves a red

bandana

and poems are irrelevant

to a man who can’t breathe

 

The sixth stage of grief

is rebellion

and the seventh

is revolution

 

If we reach the eighth stage

we’ll come together

to rebuild, resolve,

and revolt

against whatever filth

is left,

scum on the top,

polluting the bottom,

sisters and brothers

fighting against the tides.

 

© puma perl, Part I, 05/23/2020, Part II, 06/01/2020

 

Puma Perl is a poet and writer, with five solo collections in print. The most recent is Birthdays Before and After (Beyond Baroque Books, 2019.) She is the producer/creator of Puma’s Pandemonium, which brings spoken word together with rock and roll, and she performs regularly with her band Puma Perl and Friends. She’s received three New York Press Association awards in recognition of her journalism, and is the recipient of the 2016 Acker Award in the category of writing. Her most recent books can be found by clicking here.

 

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