Repetition

Reflections of feelings during the global pandemic of COVID-19*

I want to cry.

I don’t know why.

No reason.

I just want to cry.

You ever do something so often

You can’t remember how to do it?

At the doctor—

“Breathe in—deep breath—

Hold it—

Again—

Again.

Now breathe normally.”

Wait…

How do I breathe?

Some say it’s overthinking.

I say it’s underthinking.

I do it so much

I don’t think about it

So when I do think

I don’t know how I do it.

I want to cry.

No reason why.

Just a feeling

Of needing to cry.

The world is inside-out

And outside-in.

I drive down once-busy streets

But everyone is inside

Keeping safe from

Demon Virus.

It’s like a ghost town

And I want to cry.

I see people out and about

And wonder if it’s really essential,

If they’re unnecessarily exposing

Themselves

Others

Feeding Demon Virus.

Not such a ghost town.

And I want to cry.

At work, we fight.

We fight Demon Virus

With sewing machines;

Fight mask shortages

With innovation.

We were designed to make fighting gear

But the fighting gear we make

Is nothing like we originally intended.

So I sit at one machine

With less variety in my day

But more meaning.

I love knowing I’m doing something good.

Stitch it out

Run it through

Stitch it out

Cut it off.

Stitch it out

Run it through

Stitch it out

Cut it off.

Run--wait, no

Stitch--

No.

Wait.

How did it go?

You ever do something so often

You can’t remember how to do it?

Stitch, run, stitch, cut.

There is a persistent problem.

I find a solution.

Boss tests it.

“You’re right,” boss says.

“Good job,” supervisor says.

I smile, proud of me

Proud of the work we’re doing.

And then

I want to cry.

Not happy tears,

Not proud tears.

Overwhelming sadness

Over . . . nothing.

Yet I want to cry.

Stitch it out

Run it through

Stitch it out

Cut it off.

Stitch, run, stitch, cut.

You ever do something

Until you can’t do it anymore?

Stitch.

Run.

Stitch.

Cut.

I can’t cry.

*This poem was written during the spring of 2020. While the world was on lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic, I and my coworkers at my stitching job were working overtime making as many masks as we could. It was rewarding knowing we were doing something to help the frontline workers, but it was also a long and stressful period, mentally and physically. One day all the mental and physical stress poured out of me in the form of this free verse poem.