“Mind the breath,” the Ajahn says,
“And practise till you see
With clarity and insight how
Things are, and you can be.”

Not easy when the COVID coughs
Convulse my retching frame
As I lie here and fight for breath
This aerosol, arcane.

It creeps and seeps into our lungs
Then leeches on to grow
And multiply in every cell
From brain to skin to toe.

With heart and kidney under strain
And wheezing aching lungs
My future looks uncertain
As the reaper’s shadow comes.

Coronas are so tiny
Unimaginably small
They can’t survive a soapy wash
Yet have the strength to grow

And kill us in our millions
As we strut around and play
And live our lives oblivious
While still they seep away.

Coronas are not conscious
They neither love nor hate
The only path they follow is
Their drive to replicate,

Which when we come to think on it
Is what we also do
As piling on our numbers
Is really nothing new

So their unexpected coming
In this latest frightful shape
Is a wakeup call we must not baulk
Our crucial chance to take

To live our lives no longer based
On growth and greed and hate
And using up this precious earth
Until it is too late.