In the last month, our family has lost three close friends, although none of them died from corona virus illnesses. Here is a short poem I wrote about grief.
ON THE PATH Passing a stranger, silent, on the towpath at Barnes, I feel moments later something akin to grief, wonder if once we had met. Perhaps after turning I shall see him again coming back. I try to find words for what was familiar in his face. An absence of belief - not doubt - an absence of the need for belief and the absence itself; find words for his effortless progress, the lightness of his tread. As if in the end we could ever be anything but absolutely sure.