2007 - 2020

I am among the old and vulnerable

‘Testimony of the Untested’, a daily lockdown poetry series by Robert Alan Jamieson, who is in recovery from a corona-like virus. You can read his other works here.

*

The Government has issued information

relating to my current circumstance.

Therefore it must be carefully considered,

by a chap of what is now a certain vintage.

 

That I am quite old, I cannot

sensibly deny,

 

cut open, cracked and broken, confused, and blind

to some degree. What I thought I once knew

no longer holds. The world grows strange,

full of things I can’t be bothered learning,

like acronyms, or what Love Island is.

 

I forget my many passwords

endlessly.

 

But aren’t we all so vulnerable – say, to a plum stone lodged?

Regardless of our years, it takes no time to choke,

to slip beneath the wheel of that oncoming bus, or fall

and bash our heads as we exit the shower, half-awake.

Gone, out like a light, this *us*, this *we*, the *I*,

 

yet aren’t some still catching buses, eating plums,

at ninety-three?

 

I’m not convinced you’ve researched me,

the suffering endured, or so far dodged.

I fear, alone at home here, sick, that I remain

another small statistic you don’t know.

 

I do take care, and so should you.

 

 

Comments (4)

Join the Discussion

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

  1. Alistair Taylor says:

    Aye, good, thanks.

  2. Julian Smith says:

    I fell off the ladder yesterday.
    Fortunately, I didn’t come to any harm. Years of cycling, skating and roller blading help.
    Otherwise, I might have been another “heedless pensioner” statistic.

  3. Vincent says:

    Your poems are a pleasing antidote to the Goverment Information leaflets/broadcasts that swirl about just now and are never pleasant.

    The passage of the years do not, as you know, make you old Alan. As Einstein says ‘ time is an illusion.’ It only seems like last week, that in an act of hospitality and largesse I gave up my mattress in the dunny of R L Stevenson’s birthplace to a man/boy of around 19 years, who was telling me, with some assurance of his destiny to become a writer.

  4. Meaghan says:

    I just love these poems. Thank you. Keep them coming.

Help keep our journalism independent

We don’t take any advertising, we don’t hide behind a pay wall and we don’t keep harassing you for crowd-funding. We’re entirely dependent on our readers to support us.

Subscribe to regular bella in your inbox

Don’t miss a single article. Enter your email address on our subscribe page by clicking the button below. It is completely free and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.