By Goria O’koye
Dreadful Hand motions pointing at the Wrist
Vocalizing time is up.
Even for a staff opening the door in Silence,
Feels heavy knowing that fellowship
Is coming to a halt.
Just when the few days of gathering
Had started to free up.
Saplings and blossoms of Faith out of the
Tunnel of lost hope.
Reality sinks in that time is the currency,
No price could replenish what was lost.
Every visit chips away parts of
Motivation out from both parties…
Of aching souls.
So take heed on the teachings of
Self care before left untreated,
The burn outs will consume all that
Is left exposed.
Fighting to remain to not become Institutionalized,
But insanity will come
Just thinking about the free world.
So face to face becomes an initiative,
Instead of just looking at the screen
Down by the south.
Maybe it’s safe the way it feels
Like modernized wipes
For folks to stay in line and behave.
Vivid images of faces and voices
Makes the heart grow.
For every visit is not guarantee,
When cancellations rampant
And God forbid one day
You may receive that fateful call.