You watch your boy struggle with giving
up the turtle, returning it to the pond
where he’d found it on a walk—
first time you’d all been out in days.
How thoughtful he thought he’d been,
making it a home in the home
where the family sheltered in place.
How he cared for his armored friend.
Having picked flowers, knowing they’d die,
you understand the urge to pluck
the exotic, the beautiful — any diversion
from fear, which is in itself a disease.
That morning, you helped your boy
give up the idea of living forever.
Poem copyright ©2020 by Richard Levine, “Sheltered in Place.”
Crying here. For lots of reasons. For my youth where we used to catch turtles, though we had to put them right back, for your boy losing a loved thing back to the wild, for my own isolation having been diagnosed with covid, along with my husband who sleeps all the time and doesn’t feel like much company these days.
I did not mean to make you cry. I just loved the poem and wanted to share it. I think many of us will be able to relate in one way or another to it.