By Simeon Elvis Dumle
In the stagnant year of high and clear end;
We waited uncommonly, dressed in awful sanity
As touched with the strange gift of distance.
When the curse of breath bred lonesomeness
With a wearisome undoing for all age and beauty.
As the wondrous dread of Corona kept quiescent
The worldly bustles of hope and humanity
Forebiding greater toil, with misfortune
For a stronger grip against the weak and panicky.
But do not be ridden apart by the year’s jinx.
Though all in all, the world is strangling
And I, in my bed each night, fight the distress
Of the breathed wonder and woe.
Let’s lead each other washing hands,
Sensitizing with care the children and the feebled
Not to fear and not to care less, for themselves.
To find again the long-lost band; pray for peace
And calmness of mind, for rest to have our hearts. And more importantly, for ideas of vaccination
To come real and quick as we0 battle in social distance.