THE CITY OF BURDEN
AND OF THE BURDENED
SKETCH THE BAY.
You reach into your chest of personal effects
to find a pencil and some parchment
The sun is high now above the muted city
You have frittered much of the day away
Far below your window
The streets lead downward
Winding to the sea
There lonely pylons stand as sentinels
And watch the tide
No boats are anchored
You haven’t seen a ship in months
No one has dared brave the Contagion
The sun is high
The light is bright
You draw the threadbare curtain
Your sketch is taking shape now
Your hands move with an independent confidence
Your mind wanders to the horizon
Ships will come again
From foreign lands exotic
You wonder what it might be like to travel to those places
When this is all behind you
Of course
There will be affairs that need attending
Business to resume
Matters long-neglected
“What will I do?”
You muse to no one