Erasing Words to Find the Truth
The fourth anniversary of COVID in blackout poetry, kintsugi, and spotted lanternflies
This week over at Writing in the Dark,
suggested trying my hand at erasure poetry. With the four year anniversary of COVID passing recently, I have been gathering my thoughts and feelings and trying to put them into words, so I decided to use editorials and the website for a long COVID clinic as the source material for my writing. I found it revealing in a few different ways, so I wanted to share three erasure poems as well as my process.I feel like I write about COVID a lot. I am not sure this is actually true, but I don’t write about it much at all compared to how much head and body space it continues to occupy for me. I have tried to write many times and been unable to find the words. I have tried other times and only been able to find words, but no feeling. Often my writing looks like: this is a thing that happened and this is another thing that happened. I’m not able to evoke the anger or the desperation or the overwhelm.
Using erasure poetry helped me because I didn’t have to find the words. I could only use the words that were already there. It also allowed me to be a bit more emo that I usually allow myself to be. I didn’t find myself censoring for being dramatic or overreacting.
My husband saw that I was enjoying my erasure poems and that I was rapidly depleting our Sharpie supplies. To my delight, he found me the mega, only used for tagging or graffiti Sharpie. I don’t really use a light hand when I create things and this was the case here as well, so a few words I liked got caught in the crossfire.
Here’s my first erasure poem:
In case you’re reading this on a phone and that’s impossibly small. Here’s what it says:
overwhelming crisis suffocating mask, face shield, gown, and gloves confused and gasping doesn't want any "heroic measures" dismally "This is only the beginning" life and death decisions--that's our job We don't know can't do enough can't get fast enough He's dying and dying alone cut off from family crying hospital rules change by the hour already overflowing we just don't have the resources comfort of knowing I am unable to provide no doctor can help with lost wages how to pay rent another patient changed guidelines hungry for air he collapsed waited too long on the brink of giving up exposure and risk surgeons are no longer seeing patients Too dangerous. Anger, suffocating Aren't I already in the same danger frustration exhaustion what to say protective equipment tight My head is pulsing wondering if I reach into the need again
In the next one, I tried to add some visual art for the first time. There is some stunning blackout poetry on Pinterest. Because of the last line of the poem, I was thinking about kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing pottery by using gold to fill the cracks and missing pieces. In this first, artistic attempt, I find that the gold makes it difficult to read, but hopefully worth your effort.
Again, here’s the written version:
emergency department a disaster zone 50-odd patients needing to be seen lack of staffing half-dozen mental health patients no room patients are ready to leave but don't have a ride no one to drive the ambulances waiting for hours scanning the waiting room try to find life-threatening illness playing catch-up pain, illness, frustration fourth or fifth surge of covid cases never recovered from the last wave bulwarks cracked breached impossible overwhelmed staffing limitations overcrowding severe distress exhaustion caring for horribly sick again disease is so preventable moral harm overtaken by the pandemic emotional exhaustion "I just don't think I can go back again tomorrow" "I feel like we're rats on a sinking ship. Do I jump off now or hope that someone saves us" laid bare failures in our health-care system worked on a thin edge for a decade last resort for mental health and dental care tolerated threats and violence safety net for a broken system we simply can't do it anymore beaten down again and again the fixes are not going to come scarcity, inaccessibility, compassion fatigue care that is simply not there we have been changed--and not for the better
This last poem was written from the text of a website about a long COVID clinic. I wanted to use it to illustrate the ongoing “symptoms” that I, and others still deal with. I have long gotten past my anger toward unvaccinated people. However, I still struggle with how words and deeds were mismatched. We were healthcare heroes and people were banging pots and displaying signs for the first few months. However, we operated literally in crisis mode for three years. As time went on, we kept being asked to do more and more with less and less. We would just get our head above water after the last wave just in time to get struck by the next one. But by then, it felt like everyone had moved on to their own misery and forgotten about us. I don’t recall any friends who didn’t work in healthcare checking in on me.
Now, things have been back to as normal as they are going to get for the past year. There has been no recognition of what we did, how we did it, or how little support we had with which to do it. There’s been no increase in pay, no time off, no “hey, are you guys alright?” from the powers that be at any level (institutional or governmental). I don’t really need more money. I mean, it would be nice, but that’s not what I need. I need someone to see our prolonged suffering and do something, anything, to try to make us whole again. And since it seems that money is the only way we know how to recognize people anymore, sure I’ll take money if you’re giving it. Similarly, when I shared my suffering with loved ones, I sometimes felt that the discussion became one about politics and the “other side”, when yes I was angry, but that felt so far away from the overwhelm that caused my suffering. So, in this poem, I took that information about the long-COVID clinic and tried to turn it on its ear a bit. I also had a recent dream about the spotted lanternfly and I have been itching to incorporate it into some art ever since. The spotted lanternfly is the new invasive species du jour. I honestly don’t know enough about the animal to know if it lives up to the hype or is like many invasive species and not that big a deal if we are willing to do the work needed to restore the balance of the ecosystem. The spotted lanternfly sucks the sap out of trees, it also secretes a chemical that increases the risk of fungal infection for the tree.
And here is the text:
Post-COVID-19 Rehabilitation and Recovery Help for those COVID-19 provider Getting scary but continuing you wonder if long after they have recovered There is post-COVID-19 lingering that continues to affect your day-to-day life most common symptoms affect your ability to function Woman Tiring easily Loss of sense looking out the window fog solving problems memory head in hands Feeling Feeling nightmares flashbacks Trouble unable to return During COVID your doctor will function in ways that you may not realize There is no single course it affects them as a whole different need for care supporting understand long-term effects quality of life
I still feel kind of self-conscious about how melodramatic these poems turned out, but I am happy I was able to communicate more about the emotion of my experience and wanted to share it without letting the rational parts of me overrule the emotional parts. I am also proud of my little lanternflies, so I hope you take a closer look. I’m looking forward to perusing our local Little Free Libraries to see if there is any good blackout poetry fodder. If you give it a try, I’d be delighted if you’d share the fruits of your labors.
Have you had any experiences that have had a bigger emotional impact than you can rationally explain?
How do you feel like COVID is still impacting you emotionally, spiritually, or practically?
This is powerful, thanks for sharing your experiences Amy. From your last poem, what strikes me is the overlap between post-COVID symptoms and PTSD symptoms and I can't help wondering if these two things are intertwined for many people? And if our immune systems also took a massive hammering from the stress we all lived through? I'm glad not to be the only one who's still speaking out on these subjects, while most of the world remains eerily quiet on it....
Whoa~I had never heard of blackout poetry, that's fascinating. Thank you for sharing as I know it's a vulnerable thing. This makes me want to do this with my medical records from delivering my kiddo.