Silence

This pandemic tells us a story
of how we may need to wait
before we join the dots
of our life. The image is blurred.

Sleep is a ritual just like
the Sunday mass. I love to do it
but why I want to. I can't say.
Nothing can make it happen.
Not even the perishing blue light
of the television shutting itself down.
I think I'm evading fear by staying awake.

Thanking for the food is gratitude best done when hunger games are being played
destruction looms large so does uncertainty
learning to live in a room blinking with lights and smelling of disinfectants is a lesson
live the day until the mind can close its door.

Nights aren't tired they draw pictures on a blank slate, shapes that define existence
as I search for the brightest star in the sky, I smile at the thought of the person who taught me to memorise my name
I call him faith. He calls me silence.