Smokestacks of poisonous corporate
design spew unattended as people move in
regularity through this malignity, unaware of the
infirmity of the forced silence to unfold.
One-by-one, the population collapses in
countless numbers to a sickness of isolation,
their lungs set afire; a breath no longer taken.
In place of the children who used to gavotte,
coffin lined sidewalks now raise awareness of
the forced stillness beginning to take hold.
Mothers and fathers cling to their child in
desperation for the first time, for no force
had presented such a need in their existence.
Frightened and scared of the death represented in
The roar of the silence of forced stillness, they cry.
Money stopped for the first time in the modern era,
from a world now stationary, quarantined, and held
hostage from movement considered mundane. Previously
flowing from hand to hand, the exchange of everyday
objects of desire are motionless, for no commerce is
immune to the affliction of forced stillness.
Touch and compassion are the commodity now.
Healing of the human element
is the ultimate concern if there is to be a
positive outcome from the virus of forced stillness.