By Phil Millette
Our character is in a cage.
Away from a quiet spring, a strange spring.
The daffodils have no admirers.
And at the pub, the lonely beer and the gin will stay behind the bar.
The unscored goals remain uncheered.
The silence in the sky surprises us, searching up from our window.
Every day, a step on a slow motion exponential,
Into a mirrored hall, reflecting reflections of image and data,
makes it hard to see the truth,
To see the ghost virus in a faint RNA trace,
Hovering over all the earth, a cloud,
With a billion trillion microscopic death stars.
This crown of thorns we bear;
For some, a newfound penance,
For others, raw fear and hardship,
For the wicked and the hoarders, an opportunity;
But for most, a challenge for change,
To break the cage, off the crown and each pull together for community.
Phil Millette: I am a late career engineer who found poetry in those in between times on many flights. I accumulated a collection over several years before putting them in Poems from the Aisle Seat, sold for charity benefit on my web site, www.pgmillette.co.uk
Crown of Thorns was written near Easter time, at the early stage of complete lockdown, with huge uncertainty facing everyone.