Poem: Panic – 16/03/20

Panic mode,
the shelves stripped bare,
triumphant shoppers walk with their prized packets of eighteen toilet paper rolls,
the luxurious purple Quilton brand.
We have already rushed from your home,
with few moments to spare,
the opening time has already occurred,
there are barely any essential products there.
Hastily, you grab the items from the shelf,
long-life, of course,
why would we deal with anything else?

For we have been encouraged to purchase ahead for two weeks,
the panic,
the panic ensues,
ensures that we here in the supermarket,
at this usually sleepy hour.
Seven in the morning is now its busiest,
when the visitors will arrive,
the peak of scanning,
the competitive nature rises within shoppers,
perhaps all shelves of essential items will be stripped in time.
We are even more fearful of handling money,
of being within another’s close proximity,
we purchase hand sanitiser,
believing it will purge the virus from our skin,
we wash and wash,
but on occasions, the virus will be silently welcomed in.
Our systems were not made for this,
this is a pandemic,
do you hear me?
We need to take precautions,
self-isolate when required,
only leave the house when needed,
avoid close quarters with others.
And the ideal situation has commenced,
the virus is winning at this fact,
we are together, yet away from one another,
fearful of something which we cannot see
but which, if caught,
could cause saddening fatalities,
need we stay away from all others?

The question remains: 
how will we combat this insidious virus, 
this society-killing disease?
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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