Coronavirus Poem

Poem by Phoenix the Elder I remember three months ago, when everything was life as usual. A friend would visit or I would hug my family or I would wonder how I would pay my rent. I lived each day not knowing what tomorrow would bring (for so many years). That tomorrow has finally arrived…

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may…