quiet storm,
i answer each dream
like wind

beneath the anguish of sorrow
within the resistance to hope
I let go
into the sigh of surrender
where a tenderness washes over
this wounded heart
whispers of love
emerge through its cracks
crowding the silence,
filling the emptiness
and subtly piercing the dark

They are louder these days
More insistent
Increasingly desperate
Three sirens heading
Into the city.
Must be the virus!
What are people dropping
Dead in the street now?
Did they close the centre off
Just after I'd walked
Through it?
And then oh joy
As the fire engines,
Not ambulances
Screech around the corner.
Better to burn to death quickly.