John Stubley: ‘Thank You, Virus’

Thank You, Virus

Thank you coronavirus
for making plain to me my fear,
as obvious as possible—
there it is, I can hear it,
it is seen.

Fear in me.

It comes with every passing
human being.

It comes with every meeting,
every surface,
every sneeze.

There it is
when I need to buy
more food,
or exercise outside.

There it is, every morning
in the mirror when I consider
cutting this pandemic
hair.

Thank you COVID
for revealing fear—
fear laid bare.
It has always been
there.

You called it up,
called it out.

There it is,
in the news I share,
in the endless
media force-feed.

There you are, dear fear,
in the growing-empty pantry,
in the rental lease,
in the polite emails
from project funders.

There you are.

For me to see.

In strange new ways,
yet subtly.

Like when I think
of hugging again,
or of the shake
of hands,
the riding of buses,
the sliding into
suits,
returning to offices.

There you are, when I consider
the future journey
of all this humanity—
together,
apart.

There you are.

Thank you virus.

You’ve shown me this
beast, this pale, sickly
blueness thing,
crooked with itself,
bony, bent and
bending me.

I see it, so clearly now,
reflected everywhere,
in every half-empty street.

There is fear, come
to meet me.
And I smile now.
Really seeing it.

How sorry I am
for it. Confined
as it must be
to this sphere
of activity.
The real isolation.
Such a narrowness—
its home,
its destiny
and purpose.

I see it,
and seek to leave it
there outside.
Though I know
it waits,
slightly beyond the
gates I make
for it.
Though better that it’s there,
than in this place.

A quarantine from fear.
Six-feet distant
at least …
lest it
become again
the master
of this house.

Thank you virus,
for showing me
so clearly
this interloper.

And I know
it will find entry again
whenever I leave
that door ajar.

But the more you know
something, having seen
it slightly apart
from who you are,
or even from afar …
well … then,
the more you
know it.

And so, no …
the world
will never be
the same
again.

John Stubley