Riding the Pandemic

Riding the Pandemic Hope resided in the wayward wind, But dashed when pressured to rush, Now, it must be gathered again, Gently, gently, without a push. Some dwell behind closed windows While Jugglers play in a measured yard, Waiting for the morning numbers, To fall, to fail, to fall very hard. A twitch, a pain, incites sheer fear, After innocence entered crowded places, Behind doors I wait for that ugly ill wind, To bend to leaders with fearless faces. Faces with wisdom nor driven by cash, Who pray at night they will decide for life, That their power is in caring for all they rule, And freedom is a responsible right.