Words are dead like you now.
Dead like lungs that won’t breathe
Without a ventilator:
Sad COVID ridden bags
That don’t mean much when burnt,
Despite all the roads travelled,
Despite all the lessons learnt.
Eventually, they lie on paper,
Like dead lungs in plastic,
Left for those who may read,
If it falls within his creed.
Ultimately they are dead leaves,
Hanging on some dead tree,
For ghosts and strangers meaning
Nothing to you and nothing to me.
Do not wish upon a hope!
Grief is derailed,
Amid injections and responsibilities!
I’ve lost to death several times over –
The houses I live in
Are barren with old life –
And there’s nothing left to look ahead –
Except darkness and pain.
People talk to me of god,
And hope, and positivity –
I want them to come here,
Do what I am doing,
And then find the breath
To even speak.
Covid decimates the body
Love decimates the heart
So, they are allied.
Covid shows
People can never be vaccum;
Love shows
The heart is indefatigable.
They both prove to you
The strength you actually have
Surpassing that of your own hope.
Hearts Still Care 
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