Pandemic

They say it’s unlikely you’ll be unscathed.
If you don’t die, you’ll probably suffer.
Aching legs. Throbbing pulse. Venus-hot skin.
Sandpaper cough. A barrel chest full of them.
If you’re lucky enough to hide away or not
run into its kingdom while scurrying home;
you’ll probably know someone who does.
 
Not all that long ago we acted as if nothing
was the matter; stay home if you feel like
turned to stay home if you don’t feel like
risking your life. Gone are the days of chasing
fame and fortune; going viral has a different
meaning now, your fifteen minutes
the difference between breathing life-giving
air on your own or from a PVC pipe.
 
This is the first time I can remember when
there were no answers at all; nothing
to do or say or look forward to because
no actions or words or cure were present.
But then the tide started to turn; hands
that once wrung themselves learned
to wash. Wide mouths with no words
became socially savvy with wide berths.
 
And while a cure is still out of our grasp
those hands and mouths are working
together, building blocks of humanity
maybe forgotten for a time when everything
was falling apart. Small is powerful. You see,
just like the design of whatever it is that will save us,
the foundation must be solid. You have to hit
rock bottom before you could build upward.
 
In December we began our long fall, but
the new decade is rife with possibility.
Let us use these times of solitude to do
the same things those on the outside
are accomplishing; learn to accept ourselves
with love for who we are, and use that empathy
to make the world a better place for all
who will wander across our paths the day
the walls can be torn down.