LISELLE POWDER

 

LISELLE POWDER

 

Essential Workers

 

WOW!!! we are the heroes, yes we are.

They recognized us, all the hard work, late nights,

not having proper meals and not seeing our families at times.

Having to deal with tension after tension,

sick patients on ventilators.

Puking and watching their bulging eyes

as if they saw the death angel coming to take them home.

We give our last, all that is heard is the shuffling of feet,

we ran trying to save lives

“Hold on, don’t give up on me now.”

Voices echoed the same statement.

Back and forth, up and down,

like preparing for the Olympics,

our bones feel it, our bodies  aches,

pain is unbearable, muscles stretched,

dripping sweat.

Tired, exhausted, forget about breaks,

we got lives to save.

We need help ourselves,

wearing shoes that don’t come off after hours,

 because of standing

Blistered feet,

 who can see to that?

We cried, because of our choices to be a part of this,

we knew what we were getting into,

it’s a sacrifice.

We knew what the work entails,

knew at times we will not get credit,

we knew that our families will not understand.

 They don’t understand, they never will.

It’s signing a contract for life, we see the deaths,

but we tried hard to save them,

It’s the best we could’ve done.

We cried with the families that didn’t say goodbye,

to their loved ones.

We break the sad news.

Are we still the heroes?

but the ones that live, we rejoice,

our emotions just like a see saw, up and down.

Thank God we save a life, and a few after,

we carried them out in style to their families,

celebrating them with cheers,

we fought hard to give them a second chance.

Our families couldn’t celebrate us with hugs and kisses up close.

They do it from afar.

We are the virus in our homes,

 we quarantine ourselves.

Sometimes the fear just to think,

we may not see our loved ones,

because we could die in this job.

I wonder if anyone understand us.

How do they see us?

Are we really the heroes?

Some people think so.

But what I really see is us working as robots

 programmed to heed

the call. We are shutting down too.

I hope they can understand.

 

A Life Unfinished

 

Speaking to my friend, mostly every morning. We talked everything.

The ins and outs of life and the ups and downs of work

It is our connection in the morning and the evening.

It’s like “Hello Babes,” how are you?

Not that I mind, but could never get the grip

On calling my girlfriends babe, baby, dear or honey.

It feels strange, and it’s a good feeling to know that you are loved.

We spoke about the kids, from sleeping late to cleaning rooms.

Washing wares (dishes) that’s the Caribbean word.

We share similar thoughts and as mother’s/ friends

We laugh at movies, and our own jokes.

Our cultures are almost the same.

We meet up, through brunch, lunch or dinner.

She got this book from a friend entitled

“A Life Unfinished’

It’s a thought to stop and think.

Kids will send us crazy, jobs will under pay us.

Grocery bills will hit the roof. What next?

We both laugh at almost everything.

Even when the kids think they are right.

Even when you can’t remember where you park.

Laughter is medicine, a degree is not needed to get it.

We make our conversations based around our journeys and how to get by.

Our journeys help us as parents and friends to have ideas.

That’s just it, life goes on and it’s only unfinished when you are dead.

When you are stuck, when you don’t live.

 What will you do? Bury your head in the sand?

As My friend would say. “We not going down that road ‘SAY LA VIE.”

Blood Flows

 

Blood flows from innocent souls never was told it was their last.

The cry of the last breath being taken is gone

Dead, dead a feeling of sadness hurts deep.

The violence, the killing ruthless bloodshed.

Like aftershocks ravaging the streets.

What about the little ones? What stories can we tell?

They see the killings, they hear the noise

Can they be protected from the outside voice?

What is happening to the leaders? Are they lying on their backs?

While constantly lives are being targeted.

Whose responsible to pull up the slacks?

It’s a raging war, the enemy wants blood on its hands

While families are torn apart, picking up the pieces

Where can they start?

Trouble, trouble, the whole world is in trouble.

The cries of the wounded the cries of the dead.

Didn’t get chance to make peace, no

other choice but to lie in bed.

The blood flows from veins that walked this earth.

No sense of direction, got caught up in the race.

Saw the guns as their survival, felt like a hero

against any rival.

The heart is heartless no peace it makes.

Just being ruthless unforgiven with self-hate.

The enemy saw a weak link to whisper too.

Sharing his thoughts and ideas making what’s not real true.

A taste for power, a taste of blood

That’s the life once you’re from the hood.

The pattern goes on like a recurring decimal

Young ones see but is told to be humble.

How can we as a nation rise up and stand?

How can we move forward if the heads don’t have a plan?

It’s worth a try to bring humanity back

Lives are at stake, we can’t sit down

Healing time has come. Time is now

Bring the peace, not lives to the ground.

 

LISELLE POWDER