March 2020

In the distance I see

Monuments (built by unknown hands)

To wealth (accumulated via unknown plans)

I’d tell you what their plaques said

If the world would just stop spinning

I’d tell you what the score was

If I knew what constituted winning

Sometimes the smells of being alive are

Dust (as it covers all)

Rotting cabbage (you bought but didn’t use)

Spring flowers (they will not be denied)

Excess time (somehow it wafts in the air)

Uncertainty (you can smell it in your pores)

Will the world ever be the same again?

(The answer has changed since you asked the question)

Does all of this make me feel better?

(Parts I disdain and wish to fade away)

Or am I terrified?

(That which I love, and fear will not stay)

Breathe

(No longer taken as a given)

Grieve

(For all that has been riven)

Repent

(There is no sin to be forgiven)

Grow

(Opportunity has arisen)

Choose

(Actions of your own volition)

Wait

(The future remains well hidden)

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

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