To explain the story while also being in the story

Is not easy.

Like when in meditation

The instruction is to observe the observer,

Or walking through a hall of mirrors

Scrambles the brain.

It doesn't feel like much of a story

Mine

Drifting through quiet days

With the sea crackling and clapping

While we sleep deeply

And eat well

Spend idle hours discussing The Situation

With friends and family across the world

Enjoy this permission to indulge every whim

But one.

Laugh at jokes networking our connecting threads

Lose ourselves in a good book

Push down the glimpses

Which flash, uninvited

Of the Wider Picture

To grip the heart with fear and dread.

Nobody knows where this story is going

Though many try to predict

As we do our daily fitness programs

And imagine we are preparing

For the challenges ahead

This is the stuff of science fiction

We have stepped into someone else's

Apocalyptic dream.

There must be some mistake.

I've had enough now

Of this particular scene.

I'd like to be a hero

But all I can do

Is eat plenty of vitamin C

And check that my mother is O.K.

While doctors and nurses

Are dying with the dying

And we all clap on our balconies

Keeping safe and swallowing our grief

For the world we once knew

And the people who have gone

And the security we once took for granted.

We do not shed tears

For we are learning, like our Grandparents did

To keep a stiff upper lip

In times of such adversity.

We will beat the invisible enemy

With humour and positivity

The only defence most of us have.

This could be the Beginning of the End for mankind

Or just a blip in our history

Like the Great Depression or the Great War.

But being in the story

Means we cannot know

And living with such uncertainty

Is new and difficult for some of us.

We are, with refugees and cancer patients,

Learning at a new level

The truth of our mortality.