A.H. Scott: 100,000+

Deaths from Covid-19

 

 

Text by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2020

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100,000+

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Oh, I’m sorry if the number crimps your style
They are just souls of the departed
Oh yeah, just statistics in a ledger that runs red with their blood and our salty tears
We won’t forget them
Yet, you never acknowledge their existence
Let that number sink in for a while!
They’re gone now, but that’s not why you have a furrowed brow
Banner of best econ in history has dissipated from your craven clasp
Even as each one of them take their final gasp
Efficiency experts in Hades tout the time is right to kick open the doors of business to start the machine of industry again
Referencing the workforce as human capital stock, those in towers of ivory frivolously mock
Lessening this tragedy in terms of decimals and cents
Nary is a word of lament
Push, push, push won’t be easy for all of us to heed
Cynics might scoff at the naked two-step of greed
100,000 lives and counting
Coronavirus’ toll is mounting
Keepin’ your distance is what the Docs say
Yet, all which any of us can do when they slip away is pray
Covering one’s face assists in mitigation
But, some think they are above the fray of the citizenry to lead by example
They get on television and preen and pout their bleached vision
100,000
Yeah, that is a quantity
But, damnit it’s more than that – its’ human quality
Quality of flesh, blood, dreams and life were theirs once
Now, we who remain can’t even kiss their foreheads to say a final goodbye
They are not digits crimping a bureaucrat’s agenda
All they were we can remember
Beyond the spotlight that certain persons straddle with such soulless desperation
The souls of these Americans exhibit lives lived and loved to those touched by them
Less than a quarter of a year has amassed a horrendous record that some are attempting to ignore
Optics of the obvious tide of sorrow cannot be wished away
Closing one’s eyes and acting as if what’s happening exposes that rotten core
Turn the page and reopen America to make it yesterday once more
But, not this time
Bluebird bluster and any prophylactic concoction you can muster will not keep the spirits of 100,000 coming within a grasped few winks in your nightmare’s view
In day, in night the fallen will forever follow you
Even with the hallowed position you were entrusted with, you haven’t a clue
Who were they?
They are us
Who are we?
We are the bullhorn of their memory never to be silenced  
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/conference/
 
This entry was posted in Blog, News, Politics, Popular Culture, Travel, Women.

2 Trackbacks

  1. By A.H. Scott: Teddy Bare on June 9, 2020 at 1:44 pm

    […] and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here:https://tonywarderotica.com/onehundredthousand/   This entry was posted in Art, Blog, Erotica, Fashion, Fetish, Film, Glamour, Hetero Love, […]

  2. By A.H. Scott: Teddy Bare on June 11, 2020 at 1:07 pm

    […] and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here:https://tonywarderotica.com/onehundredthousand/   This entry was posted in Affiliates, Art, Blog, Environment, Erotica, Fashion, Film, […]

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