(after Owen)
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
When once we lived in times of peace,
We now are called to battle—
To war alone and all else cease.
Take up your weapon, and defend—
They’ll come at night, before first light,
The crows our deaths portend—
This is no ordinary fight.
Death came by land and shot us down,
It came by air and stopped our breath;
It came in width and length and breadth—
It came to claim its crooked crown.
It will not rest, it goes unsaid,
Till we are trampled down, and dead.
written May 15-19, 2022
on the occasion of the millionth American covid death
Moriah Sharpe 