And I thought about our dismay.

They are totally free from worry,

And are untouched by the flurry,

Of the virus, the chaos, and the hurry.

They can go where they will,

While for us it will be a long time until,

We can walk, we can play…it’ll be a while still.

But when I think of the birds;

I consider that they are free from all this,

And they are living in a state of bliss.

Yet we have become prisoners in our own homes,

And we are facing the great unknowns.

And all we had planned, we postpone.

When once again we become free,

And we step off of our porches,

How will things be?

It is true what the poet said,

That “the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.”[1]

What will we know again for the first time?

Will it feel like a long-forgotten dream when we enter our churches?

How will it feel when we stand next to others and sing the old verses?

Will we sing with the bliss of the birds?

Or will we just repeat words?

Will it be like an old memory when we go back to school?

When we sit down in our seats in class, will we follow the rules or act like fools?

Will we finally see that schools give us a foundation for our freedom?

Or will we just sit there and pass the days in boredom?

May we become like the birds

Who everyday awake joyfully without reserve.

May every one of our words,

Render the love that all deserve.

[1] Quote from T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets “Little Gidding” V.

For more of my Poems on the Virus, click here.