They bind the hand that reaches for the throat, They tame the storm, the selfish, vicious goat. A fence erected in the wild green space, To keep a certain peace, a measured pace. They say, "This far, no further," to the strong, And grant the weak a place where they belong. The wild wood cleared, a path is neatly laid, A promise in the daylight, unafraid. The chaos of a million warring wills, Subdued by silent paper, on the hills. But oh, the hand that's bound, it can not reach For gentle touch, a kind and earnest speech. The fence that holds the monster in its place, Can also hide the sunbeam from the face. The measured pace, a slow and weary stride, For those whose hearts can't find a place to hide. The path so straight, it never takes a turn, To find a secret lesson it can learn. And in the order, beauty dies away, A price for safety, paid in shades of gray. So here we stand, a paradox held tight, Between the ordered day and primal night. We trade a measure of our w...
Casualty Count
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The dreaded call came
On a sunny friday afternoon
When nothing could go wrong, it seemed
Until the call came of course
Rudely breaking up my daydream so sweet
You lost the job it said
Another couch potato joins the ranks
Income loss bound
Another casualty of young Covid
Statistics I am as I join compatriots from different walks of life
Another home hit by this pandemic so young
Deaths and debt pile
Evictions and foreclosures extend
Furloughs are rising
Bankruptcies are stacking
No good news in sight
How do we go from here?
Where are the jobs?
Where are the funds
This silence is ear-piercing
The sky is falling!
The very earth is moving
Who will be spared
Who is next?
Fear and trepidation
Uncertainty of future
How can he do this, only 19 of age
So young is Covid
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