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•Waiting for a flower
that has withered away•

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My lockdown is a bed of moist soil
Sprigs of thoughts grow everyday
And sometimes, might just blossom
into an epiphany.

Today for instance. He yelled again,
and I cannot remember why --
Screams tend to numb my mind
And I can't think.
I just stared silently at the plum bruise
from yesterday
bearing witness to our marriage.

The news channel chants "21 day lockdown" almost ominously.
I laugh, almost snarl at their complaints.
Why did a lockdown not bother me?

Then it dawned.
I'd been in one the last 10 years.

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I always imagined lockdowns
in sepia tones-
relics of the past
when freedom was a rationed good.

Today, a virus turns dictator
ordering people off the streets.
Speech fills the air less than fear
prayers dance nervously
on people's lips.

Day after passing day,
Shelves fill, businesses die
The color red on world maps
spreads, like rivers of blood.

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