In Between Storms We Walk in the Park
By: Beverly Frydman
About The Poem
I walk in the park most days with my dog, Macy Gray. Mostly I find myself in Wormwood Scrubs Park or in the Little Wormwood Scrubs. I have found that through the lockdown, people have held each other’s fears, offered easy laughter and celebrated that we were outside together. Walking in the park saved me during this time. It gave me air, breath, space and hope.
We come out after the rain
with caution in our steps.
The dogs move tentatively
like they’re wearing worn-out shoes.
A woman gets close enough
to share her tears, I hug her then
watch my turquoise earring fall
and disappear into tall grass.
I mouth a silent FUCK, still standing
remembering who I did not hold
or reach by phone because
of a lengthy broken connection.
When the rain begins again
we scatter towards our homes.
In this break from isolation
we’d forgotten our umbrellas.Return To Map
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