Drawing Near

I’ve missed my family

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Two girls, my daughter’s face,
summer caught in clear skin; last year
we basked in light, arms around my neck,
poppets on each knee.

Sight and sound and contact
no longer allowed; we had to sit apart
as on church pews, baring our religion,
daring no touch nor kiss, nor childish sweet breath;
retreating into darkness — impact
of a strand of RNA.

Patience. This crusade
proffers warriors, a threshold
of hope, scope for us all
to be reacquainted
under infinite skies.