‘Needled’ A Poem on the Covid-19 Vaccine

Nurse makes a shot vaccination Painting by Valeriy Kachaev

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” —Albert Einstein

If I put forth a single vaccine question
About a jab that’s whipped up in a flash,
And ponder on my shot-or-not position,
Why should my reputation hit the trash?

I’m called an anti-vaxxerpro-plague heathen;
Denier of all scientific finds,
Devoid of any sense or any reason,
Unworthy of respect from “higher” minds;

super-spreader with no thought for others,
A glitch within the system—a weak link,
A murderer of vulnerable grandmothers
Because I deign to seek, inquire, and think.

I want to ask why if it’s been discovered
That drugs prevent and cure this Covid curse,
With over ninety-nine percent recovered,
Are politicians dipping in our purse?

Why fund a vaccine rushed out in a hurry?
Why skip some vital steps along the way?
Why can’t one sue? That causes me great worry.
If someone’s maimed or killed, why won’t they pay?

Why can’t it stop the risk of further outbreaks?
Why won’t the vaccine free us from the mask?
Why if I wonder just what sense this plan makes,
It’s frowned on if I care and dare to ask?

Why do we need a host of politicians
To get their dose on air to sell this shot?
Why is it if I’m troubled by suspicions,
You tell me that I’ve gone and lost the plot?

The saddest aspect of this sorry saga
Are bullies claiming questing minds are dumb—
All those who favor silencing another
Are stating speech is free for only some.

So, let me speak my mind without your spite;
Without the scorn that slights my point of view.
Don’t pick a pious, high-and-mighty fight
If I’m not seeing eye to eye with you.

Needled’ by Susan Jarvis Bryant*

She brings up some interesting points. Thoughts, I had on my mind as well. Questions, over questions, no satisfying answers.

I have an autoimmune disorder, will the vaccine make it worse. Why take it, if my immune system doesn’t work the way it should? The rush, the unknown. How do we know what it doesn’t, if there wasn’t enough time to test and study it?

Needless to say, the poem spoke to me, and may I add that Albert Einstein sounds a lot like my Grandma.

Susan Jarvis Bryant is a church secretary and poet whose homeland is Kent, England.  She is now an American citizen living on the coastal plains of Texas.  Susan has poetry published in the UK webzine, Lighten Up On Line, The Daily Mail, and Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets).

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