There is no Christmas cheer!
No, not for this year.
With Covid so intimately breathing,
masks on, and yet we are kneeling at
100,000 infected in a day — and
that’s just the U.K.
Carol singers cough and splutter
their infectious spit lining the gutter —
Omicron in their lungs. It is no wonder
that we are wrung
up the flagpole, trying to digest
the news instead of going global;
we close the borders on one another:
“Every man for themselves,”
the politicians mutter.
‘Wine and Cheese’, we do as we please —
whilst one father rests with his head on
his daughter’s coffin,
or a sister lies sick in her bed.
Retail workers putting themselves
at the front for capitalism’s sake,
but finance has not been good as of late.
Hospitals have lost stock of those
in need of chronic medication,
because bed-after-bed has already been taken.
The weather does not change
the fact that we are under attack,
from both sides that determine
your worth as worth saving or
as “vermin” in that gutter that
took the Carol singers splutter.
No, there is no Christmas cheer!
Not in a Covid year.
Not in a Covid year.
Darcy R. Keim (2021)
"Darcy is a Bipolar" 