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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.

The Poem

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.

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