I look outside my window
And see more cars moving.
Economies start their motors.
Why does this scare me?
Because, though I ache to see real people
Without my mask, and not through a screen,
This virus is no where near tamed.
We don’t have it by a lead.
It is a wild horse, that outweighs us by a thousand pounds.
We are clinging to the saddle horn, our foot is caught in the stirrup
And any minute we may be flung to the hard ground.
Our brains are scrambling
For managing political unrest
For managing human suffering
For managing human isolation
For ways to save the bluer waters and cleaner skies.
As engines rev to full power,
Exhaust greys again the sky above me.
Human doings take back the streets.
Birds scatter away from the bosom of their tree.
The tree shivers, left with bare arms and smog.