Live to tell, or: Breathe – My Poem at – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 

No, Covid is Not Gone Yet! A Poem Read, Repost

I had to thank David (Ben Alexander) for encouraging me to write something and then posting my poem for his Poetry Partners at The Skeptic’s Kaddish! His accompanying poem (below) spoke volumes about how we exist in a world with COVID-19! Please visit his blog, the words I read there are very powerful.

A ‘Cyrch A Chwta’ poem by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’

COVID, a new worldwide hell,
has left scores of tales to tell.
Death counts continue to swell...
many bid loved ones farewell.
Victims with damaged brain cells;
some can neither taste nor smell;
some short of breath or in pain...
Struck by strains none could foretell.

Health Update:

It was back in January when Covid-19 upended my little world. Since then, the building back has been very positive and yet I am very cognizant of what I lost health wise, what I still need to gain and more importantly, this is “me now”.

About to be admitted to the COIVD-19 Ward. I was not happy!

My doctors, VA therapist and nurse daughter warned me that during this time of recovery from Covid I would have increased access to thoughts and emotion previously (and maybe purposefully) just out of reach. Explore them, embrace them, sit awhile with them. Write a poem about my experience a friend suggested, “I would love to read it.”

Here is my first poem…

No, Covid is Not Gone Yet! A Poem by Robert Smith, Robert’s Snap Spot

Unexpected change in this experience, life.
What Omicron? It tried, I Quarantined, I got Better? Breathing, fevers.


Trip to Emergency Room. Doom. Crying.
Pneumonia in Lungs. Not the fatal end… Huh! Sent home.


Wednesday, Emergency Room. Admitted to COVID-19 ward, my husband can visit.
Sunday, COVID ward, “COVID-19 Ward… No visit except EOL (End of Life)!


FaceTime becomes life. Lung doctors, Blood clots and ultra sounds. Hospitalists doctors?
Nurses “the best creation by God”, tests, blood, vitals, Medication. Five times daily. Not the day spa I hoped for.


Lung doctors, hospitalists, physical therapists, discharged with oxygen, large two wheel yet “portable” and lots of medications. Home sweet home! What? A curb! Brick sidewalk! Ten steep steps with turn to apartment! Can I go back to hospital?


Constant hum of oxygen machine, extra long air hose trailing me. Did I take breathing for granted? Health?


Next three months, husband home care. Thank you! Home nurse visit. Thank you! Build lungs back. Very slow. Slow. Slow walking with hose trailing.


Apartment on second floor. Groups of bridesmaids cackle and laugh under window, tourists chat loudly. Where are they from anywhere? Did I mention unexpected change in this experience, life?




by Robert John Smith Jr, Robert's Snap Spot.
Saying “Hi” in a selfie to family. Neal is a great nurse!
No fun sitting 6 days in hospital ward.

I’m home recovering and blogging as therapy.

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5 Comments

  1. Congratulations on your important, heart-felt poem. Thank you for sharing it with us! So glad you recovered.

    1. Author

      Thank you Dawn! I wish poetry could just flow out of me. Maybe that is in the future. Thank you for your kind words!

  2. A wonderful poem. But a terrifying experience. So thankful it had a happy ending.

  3. I’m so glad you’re on the road to recovery. You are very lucky to have such a supporting spouse. Wonderful words about your journey with COVID. More should read them.

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