What We Make

Watch me read this poem.

Breathing is a little bit easier 
Though all my ads 
are for better masks 
so I can keep my air
to myself and not inhale yours 

Yet still I smile 
You can see it 
In my blue eyes
And their attendant wrinkles

At home we make each other laugh
We make art
We make up words
We make mistakes
We apologize 
We rewind
And start over

We stay in our pajamas
Until getting dressed 
becomes absolutely necessary 

We must still hibernate 
In our homemade cave
Which has certainly seen 
cleaner days

But finally, we know that 
spring is coming
Even if it takes until fall to arrive

We know emerging from
This claustrophobic 
underground 
Will take time
For some, a lifetime
Costing copious tears and 
Sacrificial sweat 
and innocent blood 
that’s already been shed

And we will make it through
Make it up as we go along
Make it better than the broken truth
Make good 
On our undelivered promises 
To each other 
Make space for all the voices
To be heard
Even when it means quieting our own
Make room for all the people
At the welcome table 
Make a new way

One day we will take off our masks
And see each other clearly
And savor sharing the same sweet air

© Betsy Rosenblatt Rosso
January 2021

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