Gone.
So many gone.
Someone’s brother.
Someone’s gran.
Counting casualties
like a war
……….(rogue virus
……….in an age of rogue)
and we’re warned

(stay in,
stay calm,
do a jigsaw,
write a novel,
watch a movie
or two,
or ten)

it’s the tip
of an iceberg
like we’ve never seen before.

So we’ve hidden
……….(like the duck’n’cover
……….we used to rehearse
……….in grade school
……….in case of a nuclear strike)
from the tyranny
of this silent,
microscopic enemy.

But somebody tell me:
will this king be gone
when we all come out?

*************************************************************************************

NaPoWriMo  – Day Seventeen
Today, I have gone off script.

Under lockdown we wait this out, keeping in touch with family and friends, making sure we are all still safe.

Yesterday we learned the brother of a friend died of complications from Covid-19.  It was a terrible, violent thing.  And no one could gather for good-byes at his bedside.  There will be no funeral.  His wife must grieve alone.  His children bear the news from their places of isolation.

Suddenly the victims have faces and families, names and lives.  Now they are real.
We are finding our way through this pandemic one day at a time.
And our question should not be “When will this threat be over?” but “What will we do to prepare for the next time?”