The world spun out of
Control. We covered our faces in fear of a
Virus. It crept into our dreams and soured our lives.
We put hearts on the sidewalks and waved through panes of glass. Watching cases and spikes on a colourful chart,
And the waves kept coming while the newspapers sang
Words minced with thorns meant to cut, with a soft-edged blade.
Slowly
The words turned to rules and the rules into reality.
Now our phones hold the key, to the life we had before
The madness began.
Not allowed. Can't come in. Away. Not you. The
Virus.
A hand, reaching across the bed in the middle of the night. Fingers curled around mine,
In the darkest hour, I am thankful
I am
Home.
With you.
About the Creator
Christina Hunter
Author, Mother, Wife. Recipient of the Paul Harris Fellowship award and 2017 nominee for the Women of Distinction award through the YWCA. Climate Reality Leader, Zero-Waste promoter, beekeeper and lover of all things natural.
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