After COVID-19
Thousands less on earth,
no longer alive
to cheer the coronavirus a farewell,
now scattered across the world,
in cemetery plots, ones to be remembered,
and others, in mass graves,
ones that will be forgotten.
The survivors, the cheer leaders,
licking their wounds as they
stumble down the road to recovery,
blood still dripping,
leaving a trail behind them.
The healing process,
starting at a crawl.
Hidden World
I forgot what I used to look like.
A look into the mirror
turned into a mystery.
Once, a man with short hair,
now a hippie from the sixties,
wearing face masks when
interacting with others.
Hiding my face,
the ugliness from the world,
a changed person,
along with those around me.
I am a caterpillar,
a cocoon spun around me,
waiting for that time when the
butterfly can come out from hiding.
………..
Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE, and volunteers with a non-profit organization as a Donor Ambassador on their blood drives. He has had poems published in The Pangolin Review, Fine Lines, The Sea Letter, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, Adelaide Literary Magazine and several other publications.