ONE DAY WE'RE TOLD

With Covid-19, now with variants, dominating the world news, one cannot but hunger for good news and spend time, too much time, searching, and grasping at any suggestion of breakthroughs in its treatment and our survival to experience a new, pandemic free tomorrow.

Admittedly, it's affecting my writing, my everything, and so I write silly...just to give myself hope. There are so many things that will never be the same. With survival we will experience a new normal. Some would say Heaven help us, but being an atheist to the end, I can but wish for more days....

 ONE DAY, WE’RE TOLD….

February 21, 2021

The sun is shining today. 

There are some clouds, 

but sunshine is winning the day. 

Not that it helps, as 

we’re still under a Covid cloud, 

with more stormy weather.....

promised our way.

It’s been 11 months, almost to the day, 

that our freedoms went away. 

Face mask wearing with increasing layers,

and social distancing with each new fear, 

the order of the day.

Variants, 

ever more infectious and deadly, 

are met with caution, 

and increasing fear.

Help, we’re told, is on the way, but 

the virus is here to stay,  

……or so we’re told, and 

will probably, 

never,

never ..…..

go away.

Hugging, kissing, handshaking, 

once the norm,

have been replaced with elbow bumping, 

and stares of fear.

With the future nowhere in sight, we isolate, 

alone, and 

mentally wither, 

through this long, cold winter.

Memories of better times are all that hold us here, and 

those too wither and fade away, 

as our mental state begins to wear.

How many jigsaw puzzles can one abide. 

Movies, and TV,  lose their stride. 

Conversation grows quite stale,

with repetition of memories,

too often told.

You’ve reached your limit, 

patience, no longer accepted.

Time, 

perhaps, 

to take leave of your senses,

take chances, 

hoping that Covid ignores your presence,

as you dance with the devil, 

and wile the night away.

But then you read the news,

consider different views, 

have a change of heart, and

remain as before,

isolated, 

and masked…. 

just as before.

One day we’re told…..

this,

this horrible mess,

will all go away,

and good times will be here to stay.

But,

I have my doubts, as 

although most are willing to forget the past, 

embrace a new norm, and 

prepare for a future different by far, 

there are those that will rue the day that they can’t have their way, 

……….the old way, and

encourage the virus,

along with its friends,

to stay.

Let’s hope that we’re wrong, 

and that it won’t be too long 

before we are told, that 

the virus is gone, and 

that it’s safe, 

to come out and play.

January 18, 2022: The pandemic continues with Covid-19 mutant Omicron leading the way.....

January 15,2022

In the light from morning’s twilight I can see the thermometer, 

minus 18C,

cold by anyone’s standard.

It’s a new day, 

a pandemic day, 

much different from days that now, 

seem long, long ago. 

It was only two years, or so ago, that

every day was a challenging day, and now

we shelter in place

with nowhere to go.

I settle at my desk, and think to write a poem,

another poem that sounds like the rest,

the result of having no place to go, 

no challenge as such,

 just dejavu.

Fear of infection rules the day 

accompanied by wishes that the pandemic 

would please, 

please,

go away, 

and let us resume life as it was,

now deemed the best,

the best that there was.

I go on line, and seek out the news.

The newspapers,

digital versions of course, headline the virus 

a war not yet won. Worse still ,

the soldiers, nurses and such, 

some, 

tired of fighting 

have turned tail 

and now run, aiding insurgents who would

surrender ground won.

One can’t help but wonder where we’d all be

had soldiers of other wars 

tired of fighting 

gave up the battle, turned tail, 

and went on the run.

And then Iraq, and Afganistan, came to my mind, 

and I remembered the outcomes, 

when the soldiers gave up, 

and went on the run. 

Those wars never ended,

the darkness thought banished, 

reasserted, 

and the life of their peoples,

descended to old times. 

Of lesser interest,

 middle page news, 

global warming was mentioned. 

Opinion has it, 

that without intervention, 

the world will become a place writers dream, 

a sci-fi scenario,

a nightmare at best. Soldiers are needed, but 

concesus for action no where in sight, 

we’re left wondering 

what the children can do. 

And what’s this, 

tucked away in the corner of page 29,

global powers are bickering, 

World War III in our time?

Another pandemic poem,

another pandemic day……

Dejavu.