Contagion by David Hanig, March 2020
At first, when word of it began to percolate,
I was yet asleep and
The virus a forgotten song
Heard in a distant dream –
Remote, faint, barely pricking my awareness.
Then slowly, siren-like, its pitch began to rise,
Its decibels ringing,
Demanding attention,
And calling me from slumber.
Eventually, fully rousted,
Its reveille shocked me to attention.
I never realized before how a soldier’s bearing
Is the deportment of fear –
Abrupt, rigid, breath sucked in –
A rictus that shouts out loud: “I’m terrified”.
And so, I was.
These days,
All things slow down.
Fear or no fear,
Life now creeps.
And the virus implores us to be aware.
Where once I was lax,
Now I keep a kind of strict kosher:
I wash my hands.
Step aside on the trail.
Spray the parcels that manifest
Unheralded on my doorstep.
The virus says, “Be Conscious.
Your life depends on it”.
After years of practicing Zen on a cushion,
I suddenly find myself in the middle of
The longest meditation retreat I ever imagined!
Such luxury!
Such pure indulgence!
Slowly, slowly, my dull awareness
Begins to grasp something new:
This is no accident, this pandemic.
This is no happen-chance, no random event.
This is utter intention at work
Our collective creation
Summoning us from our slumber,
Begging us to truly wake up.
