Covid-19

We are great ones for rushing
where angels fear to tread.
Although now I suppose
they are afraid to infect heaven
with our earthly woes.
Which is why Abram still awaits
his three messengers.
Even in the desert, disease spreads
like so many locusts on the breeze.

I keep hearing about distancing:
one meter, or three feet,
to avoid being walking vectors;
you know, to flatten the curve?
Since when did the news
sound like geometry class?
Ironically, school is out for spring
and possibly summer, too.
All the kid’s dreams are the nightmare.

I read the news, and read my friend’s
faces for hope. All I hear is fear.
My own is so loud it’s a wonder
I can even make out that of a planet
crying for alleviation.
We are all in the same galactic boat,
sailing on black waters.
So, stay in your bunk, and I’ll sway in mine.
Together we’ll arrive at journey’s end.

Look: many have passed into what awaits.
Many more will, too, before this ends.
We never were guaranteed the next sunrise.
It may this that sends us away.
It may be another 70 years before that great
migration of soul and spirit, that grim bus
careening through metaphysical streets reaping.
Continue to look both ways before street crossing.
Lather, rinse, repeat until it’s your time to say goodbye.

So, bring this home…
…which is where we all are anyway.
Where’s the hope, the good news,
the twinkle in the eye to show the mirth?
Is it clear skies and nature’s rebirth,
a global spring in the step
of them what survive?
Maybe. I rather think it’s the small
acts of service and love that will save us all.