During Covid by Sherman Alexie


In large numbers, the wild
rabbits arrived in our

neighborhood and have
multiplied. I see one or two

every time that I exit
our home. Once, on a walk,

my wife and I found
a baby rabbit, incompetently

hidden or abandoned
or perhaps its mother

had been taken by a serial-
killer cat—every cat

is a serial killer. There
was nothing we could do

for that baby. Animal
rescue wouldn't come

for one baby barely bigger
than a thumb and we

didn't have the time
or expertise necessary

to care for it. And, frankly,
we didn't have enough

compassion—some might
call it codependence.

There are dozens
of wild rabbits

in the neighborhood,
maybe hundreds. One

death wasn't a threat
to any population.

The next day, I walked
by the place where

we'd seen that baby.
It was gone, taken away

by something. I sighed.
I said a little prayer

for that poor thing
and then went about

the rest of my day.
But, four years later,

I still think about that
baby. It remains a part

of my life as a reminder
of the many times when

I've made cold decisions
in this cold world—

of the many times when
each of us choose

cruelty over kindness
and curse instead of bless.

Sherman Alexie

I’m not thrilled of open water
I always liked my feet on dry land.
But the days are getting hotter,
I’ll have to deal with my toes in sand.

Dreams got me thinking of a sun
so hot it could toast my skin.
Stick a fork in me and call me done,
and let the feast begin.

Sometimes I think and sometimes I wish
that I had the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
The water’s fine to take a dip,
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens,
hoping I can still find them.

I get pulled in with currents of my emotion,
I gave up swimming as soon as it started.
Because who in this world can fight the ocean,
when it wants you to be departed?

Dreams got me thinking of palm trees,
leafs so big they create a world of shade.
Feeling of a nice summer breeze
cutting me up like a razor blade.

Sometimes I hope the fabric of reality will rip,
and that I gain the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
Teeth are shaking just like my lip
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens
hoping I can still find them.

I want to live amongst the waves shining
like gold paint,
but I’ll only ever find my silver lining
if I become an angel or a saint.
Yet I’ll hope that the sirens
can take my demons and blind them.

A poem and tribute to my Nana Lilly Murdoch Sokimi. After nearly six years, we’ve fulfilled her wish, laying her ashes to rest on her island home, a place I knew only through her stories but have now walked myself #kuria #kiribati

💕
For you my beloved Nana you are cherished ❤️🌴

I miss you so much, but my heart knows you’re at peace and no longer at fuss

You’re laid to rest on Kuria, the island you love. Home with your beloved ones, safe in the stars above.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I sit on the beach, the sand warms beneath me. Your tales of old times dance in the waves of the sea

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I wish you were here, right by my side,
But I feel you watching, with love as my guide.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

Riding on the back of a motorbike, wind in my face, I see you in the land, in every sacred place.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

The coconut trees sway gently, I’ll never forget whispering your tales you told me as a child oh how I fret.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I walk on the beach where the sand holds your steps and I hear your laughter, your glories in depths.

I miss you Nana but I know you are here
Kuria, your home, your land holds you now, in its warm, endless way.

In the heart of this island, where families join you by your side and love will never fade away .

You are home, my dearest Nana, you are home, my heart aches to say, forever here and my heart you will always stay.

From Fiji to Kuria we have reached the shores, May you Rest in eternal peace my dearest Nana on this sacred island of yours.

Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Gold doubloons and pieces of eight—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Pockets of coin is the sailor's fate—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Gentlemen of fortune and fun—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Have the most money under the sun—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Got me a ******* every shore—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Love 'em and leave 'em and leave 'em sore—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Jolly Roger ***** in the breeze—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Life is a sport on seven seas—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

I smoke my last stick
throughout the night, the smoke fades
Tomorrow, I'll starve.
The damp morning brings wet rice,
jaundiced eyes, and collapsed lungs

The brown water wanes—
Black-head buoys and a poem:
Birds sing elegies.
The sky absolves once again
Amnesia reverberates.