Do not be discouraged. Don't lose your heart as everything seems to fall apart. A chick will emerge from the shell; always does.


What do you see when the rough fire eats at wood, 
Softly sintering what was splintered? 
It's weird that pain brings togetherness
Where handshakes were fake, and escape
Was the constant. Now we crave to touch, 
We crave so much as the mask falls off 
To reveal the despair on the decaying 
Banana on the medic's lips. Last touch 
Gone. 

What I see is pain, but not like Cain's on Abel. 
I see the pain of a pierced side, or thorns 
Crowning the start of a battle for souls. 
I see the pressure of nails dodging wrist veins, 
But getting some, missing the bone, hanging on. 
I see years of preparation, patiently waiting 
For that moment: the filth of coal felt like 
Victory to the Virus smiling. The crown of the 
Start of the battle, rattled to the ground. 
Pressure, battle, the victor won without a sound.
I see Sunday morning, Peter's out of breath 
Chasing John, chasing Mary earlier in the morn. 
I see a cloth there, bare, where coal had dared 
To start tears down my cheeks with biers. See, 
The wood destroyed slowly became the coal of pain, but
 
What I see is not coal on worldometer's charts; 
I see diamonds form, Love's pressure on the Sacred Heart.

(c) nyonglema