It’s been a while since I posted a poem on here, so I thought I’d share this sonnet, first published in Oxygen: Parables of Pandemic by River Paws Press. Written near the end of lockdown, it has recently acquired a new resonance, as I’ve currently got Covid and find myself locked down once again.


Like stunted trees, huddled against a storm
we have grown inwards, in protected space.
What was once punishment is now the norm:
each of us makes a prison of the place 
we call our home, warily creeping out 
only for reason of necessity.
When promised freedom, we are racked with doubt. 
How strange, unsettling it feels, to see
the doors of houses opening like flowers.
We still cling to our reassuring chains
scared to reclaim the world that once was ours.
Worries and ‘what if’s echo in our brains 
but it is time to win back what was lost.
I step outside, keeping my fingers crossed. 

pic: Entomolo 2006. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported 

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