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Rebel Elaine

Updated: Mon, 8 Mar 2021 05:47 am

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Poetry gives trauma a voice, tells a story with raw emotion that cannot be verbally expressed. I prefer to write about situations I’ve either experienced or heard about from social media, experiences that others may face and need healing from. *ALL narratives are FICTIONAL characters*


Lipstick smudged on a cigarette butt Her soul was shattered, bruised, and cut Window sill painted with dust Door knob locked and dulled with rust Vodka tonic on her tongue Broken heart songs were loudly sung She drank one two three four, seven days a week Smoke filled lungs, no words left to speak

My Covid Story

“Your covid test is positive,” the nurse shouted out. In that moment I knew from the rest of the world, I was locked out. I had been sick for three weeks with no proper diagnosis. Doctors were stumped with false swabs and ineffective prognosis. It wasn’t until I collapsed, 5 am bathroom floor. Doctors finally believed me but there was no cure. There are no smiles, no laughter, no hugs or hands held. Change into this, put on your mask, and of latex, the room smelled. Blue scrubs, yellow gowns, and face shields spoke to me. Can someone let my dad know? He’s been waiting since 5:30. Yes, we’ve informed him of just how sick you are. You need medicine and rest, we will monitor your heart. Propped up in the bed, stiff blankets on my feet, I’m prodded and poked and told I need to eat. You have double pneumonia and a sepsis infection. Studying the X-rays the dr showed me her inspection. Your breathing is shallow. Your pulse is too low. Here’s the oxygen tube. It’s scary, I know. The nights and days blur as I slept, coughed, and had to prone. “We’re transferring you to the covid unit and your mom is on the phone.” The next 24 hours haunt me in my dreams. Isolated and lonely, “Am I dying?” I scream. I cough and I wheeze and I sob trying to breathe. “Just take me already.” I pleaded and seethed. After 6 days, God had heard all my prayers. The heavy door pushes open and the dr says I’m being moved upstairs. “ICU has a bed and can take better care of you. Your lungs are in bad shape, but there's one more thing we can do.” My weak body in panic mode, I didn’t understand. Do I need a vent? Can someone please hold my hand? My sweet nurse was sent from heaven. She truly cared. She spoke softly and explained thoroughly, knowing I was scared. For 5 days she took care of me and watched me progress. My treatment started working. She assured me to trust the process. Again, I got a new room with the same ugly features. No visitors or leaving, just follow the procedures. I haven’t had a real shower in several days. I dreamt of scented soap and the mirror’s foggy haze. FaceTime and Phone-calls kept me somewhat sane. My spirits lifted, although still in pain. I begged to go home as 48 hours dragged on. “We need to monitor your vitals,” that option temporarily forgone. “If you walk to the restroom, oxygen attached, Your freedom lies before you. Try not to collapse.” I passed the final test and was eventually released. With tank and tube at my hip until my O2 status increased. Days turned to weeks as I slowly found my strength. My parents were a blessing, as I could only move short lengths. I missed my students. I missed my bed. I missed my friend to distract me, outside my own head. With so much time to think, the spiral began. Quarantine was over yet my mind couldn’t withstand. Everything I’d gone through over the span of two months, This disease does not discriminate, for everyone it hunts. Some only mild, some critical, some, unfortunately, death, It’s forced our friends and family to take their last breath. Our world will never be the same with curfews and masks. We’ve socially distanced ourselves with regulations for all tasks. Children will never understand how the world used to be. We can only hope they do better and change what they see.

Damaging Existence

“It’s just like the flu,” the ignorant spewed. “Kids can’t even get it,” they yelled angrily and stewed. “The government infected us. It’s all a big hoax.” “Not THAT many people died” emotionally provokes. Refusal to wear masks, excusing government conform. Claiming you have rights and then coughing at reform. “The vaccination is a microchip and their numbers are a lie.” “Biden wants to shut the country down again and I don’t understand why.” “I won’t get the shot, it’s gonna change my DNA.” Yet, you’ll harm your lungs and liver with Mary Jane and IPA. As someone who has had covid and it almost took my life, I think your comments are insensitive and causing unnecessary strife. We are all humans and deserve to make choices about our health. We want to be happy and not worry if we can cover it with wealth. The masks protect everyone, it is courteous to all. Your refusal is preposterous and a very selfish call. I don’t wish this virus on your family, your kids, your wife, or you. Please get the vaccine, so there is some sense of normal we can renew.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Rebel Elaine

Fri 26th Mar 2021 02:45

Thank you, AG

A Girl

Mon 15th Mar 2021 19:25

Your COVID story is really frightening Rebel. Glad you got through it!

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Rebel Elaine

Tue 9th Mar 2021 21:12

Thank you Nigel! That was my intent on writing it! I know many share similar stories! 💜

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Nigel Astell

Fri 5th Mar 2021 01:35

Your covid story will touch the hearts
of everyone that reads it.

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Rebel Elaine

Fri 5th Feb 2021 22:05

Thank you Stephen! I do prefer the narrative story type poetry. If I can think of a character in a particular situation, I just make it flow! (:

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Stephen Atkinson

Tue 2nd Feb 2021 22:23

Welcome to WOL Rebel. Off to a flying start! Your work has some good edgy, imagery infused within well woven tales. Liking it 😀

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