I message my sister and tell her I don’t try
to start seedlings anymore since they always die
when I take them outside, and she replies,
“Every day look at them and jostle them,
brush your hand over them to give them
the sense of being outside in the wind.
It encourages root growth.
Eventually you can open a window
so they experience real air.
Then they get to go outside for an hour or two.
Eventually, you can set them free and let them grow.”

My sister has raised two delightful children.
Every day she looked at them and jostled them,
brushed her hand over them to give them
the sense of being outside in the wind.
It encouraged root growth.
Eventually she opened a window
so they experienced real air.
Then they got to go outside for an hour or two.
Eventually she set them free and let them grow.

Now I am sheltering in place far from them.
Every day I look at them and jostle memories,
brush my hand over photos
to give myself the sense
of being outside in the wind.
It encourages root growth.
Eventually I can open a window
and experience real air.
Then I will go outside for an hour or two.
Eventually, I will be free and will have grown.


This poem first appeared in LOCKDOWN 2020: Poetry and prose from around
the world on living in isolation and surviving the coronavirus. Compiled by Robin Barratt.)
Used here with permission.