The old order changeth

yielding place to new.

And thus our carefree lives

are suddenly wrapped

in shrouds,

and locked indoors.

None must come in.

None must go out.

It is out there to get us –

in harmless little things…

in handshakes and hugs,

and loving kisses

and gentle touches.

And just as suddenly,

we are suspicious of things

that once gave us succor,

that nurtured us,

and gave us pleasure and happiness.

The fiestas are gone,

the music is silent

and family get togethers

are quiet affairs of twos and threes.

Suddenly, we all sit

and wipe off traces,

from food and walls and floors

and our skins…

And rub and scrub…and clean;

and still cannot be sure.

For it permeates the air

and floats down in smokey fog

to capture the sleeping, silent city.

And suddenly,

the mist from fairyland

is dark and thick and ominous.

IT hangs in there, invisible;

like blood on the Lady´s hand –

that isn’t there,

but doesn’t go.

And suddenly, we mighty humans,

who dreamt of magnificence,

see our lives upended

by a trifling little virus.