Years from now

as you swing open your arms to greet a friend

lean in close to help an elder

shake the hand of a stranger in greeting

you will have forgotten the rain that washed you clean

the sting of quarantine

your present moment, but a dream

On the dance floor

up at the front with your friends

At the market

shoulder to shoulder with your neighbours

At church, the theatre, a workplace, the body

of a new lover - wherever you worship

you might in a moment flash back

to that period of lockdown

where you broke

new ground, looked around

attuned to the sound and found

your Self

Now stay there. Watch yourself

How are you? How are you? How

are you? Were you being?

Did your eyes expand from seeing systems crumble

the powers that be humbled

at the slipping of strings

through their fingers

releasing a fragrance

that lingers

Did you pick up the scent?

Did your nose wrinkle as illusions of control fell

Could you tell?

Or had you lost your sense of taste,

your sense of smell?

Now watch real close,

and draw your attention

for a moment

to your breath, your balance

Did it hold you as the plates trembled beneath your feet

reconstructing the lay of the land

Did your palms prickle with sweat

as the shift of power

fell gently

in your hands

In whose? Yes, you - flattener of the rising curve

all alone, staying home, calmer of your own

nerves, perceiver of what no longer serves

armed with stillness

and distance

like sands through the hourglass lost

in honour of the lives it cost, in that absurd reality

a landslide sacrifice of casualties, so you

could pass through and build

anew

So don’t go

stay watching yourself

in the quiet of that room

the one where those uncomfortable questions bloomed

and deep down you knew

you were about to be broken

open

as the collective slumber

drew

to a close