It Comes at Night (4.3.2020)
During the day I’m fine.
The numbers come out each eve.
Nighttime is the worst of every timeline.
I’d go, but no one can leave.
Another 10 or 20 Alaskans diagnosed.
Numbers added to the news where the national state is exposed.
I can feel it rising inside.
The anxious tightening of my chest.
My racing mind on a wild ride.
A bore tide wave that won’t crest.
The creeping onslaught of low level panic.
The dread that lays dormant while I work now becomes manic.
How long till it comes for someone I know?
My friends? My Family? Me?
These are the questions death doth bestow.
I pray in an attempt to be free.
But the not knowing just wont let me rest.
Living day-to-day, day-after-day, is hard, but best.
We are instructed to stay if not essential.
We are told to ‘bend the curve.’
But my thoughts leave on journeys tangential,
careening around swerve upon swerve.
Is this what it felt like back in 1918,
wondering when a normal life could reconvene?- Joel K
D.V.
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