The Virus

Her breathless lungs, infested skin

Smothered, raging hotter than before:

A viral attack with exponential growth,

And she screams wordlessly from her core


Once flexible, balanced, resilient,

This host’s tired of surviving greed.

The agents still circling, swooping,

Mining relentlessly for what they need


Her airways are carbon-blackened,

systems sore, less capacity.

Dehydrated crying; no fresh tears.

Every cell’s lost elasticity


This 8 billion-strong viral network

Needs to be untangled, to avert disaster.

They make noises to say they understand,

But intensive care with sticking plaster


Her armoury has been varied,

Thrown out waves, storms, wrecked shores

Raged fire, bred pests, rumbled up and out

Now: pandemic lockdown, like never before


The viral agents have to understand

Their future depends on care.

On rehabilitating their host,

On changing their ways.

Only then their life she’ll spare


So she’ll treat them kindly this one last time;

Only 1% she’ll take.

But make this warning the very last.

They must, to her, subordinate.

27 April 2020

https://vocal.media/futurism/are-humans-a-virus-on-the-planet

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