What side?

What side will you be on
when your kid returns from history class
where he first learned about the year divided
and how the streets were filled with tear gas?

What side will you be on
when he stops you to ask:
Do you remember that awful year?
And is it true about wearing a mask?

What side will you be on
while you look at his innocence?
Will you be proud of the side you fought for
or was this just another minor incident?

What will you tell him of that year
when the world shut down from corona
with unemployment at an all-time high
and how black lives were a bad persona?

What will you tell him of the president
the so-called leader for the land of the free?
Did you fall in line with his twisted views
or did you stand up for an equality plea?

Did you follow protocol of a lockdown
or did you protest your need of a haircut?
Did you keep quiet about a murder
or did you feel a pain in your gut?

What will you tell him of that year
when the world turned upside down
not for those in power or the privileged
but for those who are black and brown?

What will you tell him of that year
as he sits and listens to your recollections
of what you did to ease the pain
and how you voted during elections?

What will his face show
when he hears your replies?
Will he be proud of your actions
and who were your allies?

What side were you on
during the year so divided
will you finally accept the truth
of 2020 and of a world misguided?

Goodbyes Behind a Mask

My mask was ready to go. Hanging up next to the front door. Waiting for outside action.

Got my phone. Got my wallet. Got my mask. Time to go.

That’s the new checklist as I leave the house. That’s the new normal.

I tied my mask around my head. Then I tied it a million more times as it is nothing comfortable.

But nothing about this day was comfortable.

We pulled into the church parking lot. Black dresses and suits sprinkled around outside. I stepped out of the car, wishing to rush my mother and give her a hug.

Six feet apart. No touching.

Instead of mourning my PopPop together, we had to mourn at a distance.

One by one you could enter the church, mask on, to say your goodbyes.

Myself, along with the other grandkids, went back outside of the church. Only 10 people were allowed inside during the ceremony.

We tried to listen at the entrance or through the Facebook feed. But I barely heard what was being said.

All because I couldn’t sit in at my own grandfather’s funeral.

I watched my Aunts leave the church crying. I hesitated, not knowing if I could even hug them.

Could they even tell I was smiling behind this mask? A smile I wanted to give as comfort in place of a hug.

Mourning during a pandemic is one of the worst things I have ever experienced.

There was no luncheon for everyone to celebrate his 91 years of life.

There was no goodbye from my MomMom, his wife, as she was not able to leave her assisted living home.

The woman he has been with since the 8th grade was unable to attend his funeral.

She had no goodbye behind a mask. She had no goodbye.

We rested our flowers one by one on his casket and went our separate ways.

That’s the new form of goodbye. That’s the new normal.

Got my goodbye eye exchanges. Got my goodbye waves. Got my forever mask. Time to go.

My mask was ready to rest. Hung back on the wall full of tears. Longing for a better day.