A COVID-19 Poem as Seen By a Family Doctor

Driving past the many houses, I know that everyone is home.

Some of them are sick or dying, others very much alone.

Walking through the darkening forest, the creatures scamper away.

Pulling on my face mask, I wish the virus would do the same.

He’s burning up, she’s shivering, the cough just won’t go away.

Struggling to catch breath, her oxygen drops and pain now grips her chest.

“I can’t stand, my legs are weak, when will this all end?”

Wiping the sweat off my face shield, I languish wanting to ease these fears.

To get tested or not is the question that now fills up my day.

Stay home, I beg, too much death has passed my way!

Another death certificate to be signed, another COVID victim added to the tally.

Before I sign, a call from the ICU: he is now on a ventilator.

The rain clouds come and go, the heavens weeping for its lost humanity.

Many have lost their jobs, their thoughts now mired in fears.

The economy is crushed by an unseen enemy, yet the invisible microbe preys on.

It desires a foothold inside your home, it yearns to steal your being.

Will we open soon or stay long closed? People protest each side.

The pathogen neither knows nor cares, it will devour us all if it may.

The battle is on to restore our humanity, the loss we have suffered is severe.

Many will not survive this war, yet the ultimate victory will go to mankind.

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