Pale prisoners of a virus

 


                                                                       Spring 2021

Has there ever been 

a spring so welcome?

A blue sky - a cold underbelly.

Lockdown easing-uneasy.

Masked by vaccines

‘Have you had yours?’

Edging out now

distanced and yet together

our plans more tentative.


Losses again awakened

grief steals the anticipation,

a sharp stab of memories

of words unsaid.

‘Bring it back next time’

a casual assumption

of friendships surviving,

of us surviving.


But we are here,

Pale prisoners of a virus,

the unseen assassin

the stealer of life and living.

But I need to be out

to see the hills

to paddle in streams,

to breathe freedom in the air.


I want to clasp my family close

and together sit around the table

to celebrate life and make

plans for living again.

A visit to the hebrides,

to a gallery, an exhibition

of colour filled stories,

to see a play or a film

and talk about it afterwards.


To feel normal,

there it is, that word,

normal, an aspiration 

so measly.

But headlines speak

of reckless leadership

and countries overflowing 

with death.

My heart aches as

I struggle into spring,

my face held up to the sun.



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