Corona
Written By: Lawrence Zwolinski, Trager Practitioner
In one short breath
A guest draws near
We cough up the words:
“Our hands must be clean!”
We stockpile panic
Feeding the plague
Pandemic demons
leave us locked down
We worry
it follows
our fear to our lungs
How can we stay in?
When we don’t know what comes?
Our routine on hold
Our inner world screams
What’s left of us now?
We stare at the screen
It passes all borders
It’s spreading
How many?
Sickened by news
We're caught in the game
Like a bad dream
Unable to hide
We see ourselves clearly
We see our world crumble
This pestilence prospers
It leaves some in ruin
We’re touched by the grief
As we're broken inside
Our hearts offer hope
But the distance remains
Will we journey this tunnel?
Will it shine at the end?