Distant

A moving poem by Tanya Cliff in this time of uncertainty. Thank you Tanya.

Pat

Distant…

Hands long for the warmth of flesh
to touch
to hold
to love

The torn social fabric

Covers our mouths

Shielding us

From

Each

Other

This day, too, shall pass—
it always does—
not fast enough for most,
far too quickly for some…

We Mourn

Like doves, tossed in the storm,
Like sheep, led to the slaughter,
Like lone wolves…

Distant…

We howl at the insensitive moon.

It waxes.

It wanes.

It cycles.

We will sort through the carnage—
we always do—
and comfort each other
touch
hold
love
And mend the social fabric
Breathe the fresh air
And Celebrate…

a

…pandemic, DISTANT

©️2020 Tanya Cliff

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