Quarantine
A poem
If in bed I lay all day
And ate nothing but still, stale air
I wouldn’t die but who would care
To the world, did I live this day
If I didn’t move a single hair
A muscle, tendon or a single tear
Would my breathing count as life
If all I were, were a winter bear
If I didn’t speak a word
And my voice were never heard
Would I be a dumb songbird
Or just a bird whose song left her
If my poems never saw the light of day
All the hundreds I write in despair
Would I still be a poet or
A wastrel with many a prayer
The days they pass without a murmur
The nights without a moan
At dawn I dream of places to run
At dusk I mourn the setting sun
For yet another day is dead
Where my life has no witness borne
My breathing shallow, my words unfed
And my voice has died all alone
And if I were to die today
And a year later the world awoke
Would I have really died today
Or would I have lived an extra year
