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Quarantined

Against the wind, our candles out,
The smoke will rise, we have no doubt,
Yet in the dark with all our kin,
We’ll strike a match and crack a grin,
And once alight, our joy will sprout.

All those outside, alone, will pout,
“You’ll spread disease,” they’ll scream and shout,
And judge as if we sit in sin,
__Against the wind.

Made lepers who they’ll scorn and flout,
They know what all our fun’s about,
So, while it is to their chagrin,
They suck in deep, cold air within.
We’ve made our hearth and friendship stout,
__Against the wind.

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Gregory Ross is an emerging poet and a pilot who lives in Stafford, Virginia. 

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2 Responses

  1. Shaun C. Duncan

    I love the approach you’ve taken with topic, pitting love and community against the forces of fear and despair and I think you’ve made an important statement about what’s at stake here – all in a very brief and tightly constructed poem too. As a veteran of six Melbourne lockdowns I really appreciate the sentiment.

    Reply
  2. C.B. Anderson

    One can either kiss ass or kick ass. I think that you have made the right choice.

    Reply

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