What Will Be

By Yuval Shomron


Oh, do tell me. What will be?

In a pandemic world that once was free.


A tiny bug without even feet.

Has stolen our freedom together to meet.


Shelves are empty, warehouses bare.

Some suppliers don’t even care.


We were so used to plenty, and for some even wealth.

Yet today we are focused on everyone’s health.


New folks are starting to buy online.

If you open a store you will get a fine.


What we called “normal” may never return.

We have neither time nor money to burn.


Were we so wrong to be happy and fat?

Did we ever even consider that?


Priorities have changed. Plans have been scrapped.

If we’d prophesied this last year, all would have laughed.


Even the economy has this damned virus.

If we lose our jobs, no one is open to hire us.


Finally, many are turning to God.

Screaming, “Help Me” from their quarantined pod.


But let’s pray for others, not only ourselves.

Each trapped in their own private heavens or hells.


We are in this together, like it or not.

In the whole world there’s not even one safe spot.


Thank goodness for Whatsapps, Facetimes, and Skypes.

Many newbies are now social media types.


For lots of grandparents that option’s not there.

How we miss running our fingers through their soft gray hair.


This is a time of unspeakable sorrow.

Some of us may not be here tomorrow.


We all are wondering how long it will last.

But eventually, this too shall pass.


Some good new habits have found a start.

Families eating together, 2 meters apart.


We’re dusting off those forgotten board games.

And chatting in front of the fireplace flames.


Someday we’ll say, “Remember when?”

Reminiscing and asking, “Where were you then?”


“I was stuck on a cruise ship for 14 days.”

“What’s so bad about that?” a grandson says.


So, let’s keep a diary, and jot every thought.

It will be the only record we’ve got.


I've written this poem to blow off some steam.

And help me deal with this current theme.


I pray for every girl and boy:

“May you rediscover your love and joy!”


Meanwhile I lift up my glass for a toast.

“May Covid-19, in hell soon roast!”