Virus 2020
Lost
I will not ask for help.
This virus has abandoned me high and dry like a high, spring, storm tide.
I locked down early.
As a health professional I did not need to wait for the clarion call of the bumbling buffoon.
Though I waited.
And waited,
To hear it.
Too late in the coming.
And 70,000 deaths because of his delay.
So far!
But I do not need help for his betrayal.
My sister died!
Not a Covid death,
A death because the NHS switched itself off to deal with the pandemic.
And the manner and the reason of her death is, here, irrelevant.
For a perfect storm has stranded me here.
Alone.
Locked Down.
With nothing to do but ruminate.
With no one to hold me or hold in return.
I bubble in and out of grief.
Weeks in the weeping.
It is worse than anything I have ever known.
I rage and I scream and I bray and I spray my snot and tears and saliva across the world.
I have always had to be somewhat strong before, in grief and responsibility.
By necessity life went on.
And to be fair, when two roads divided in the wood, I took the one less travelled.
Alone!
Except here in this stranded space there is nothing but grief.
No road, travelled or not.
Nothing.
In the moments I virtually touch the world I hold it in, for you all.
But in the space between the spaces.
I rage and weep and wail.
“Call me,” you would say.
“Call me.”
And I know you are there.
But I won’t do that!
And I surely cant do this!
