Grim-grey, red-crusted eyes shuck open
A dim day where dirty sheets beckon to stay
A vice-like grip holds firm the thoughts
Let slip to stay trapped in false reports
Thick treacled repetition day by day
Unequalled headache, a pacifier
Deep inside, uncoughable gunk sits
Wait and hide for uncontrollable fits
Thick wet air sinks from dark dead sky
To hang there; infect pock-marked lungs
Ventilate oxygen relief, breathe deep to keep
Concentrate belief to dream continued sleep
Written about my struggles with the remnants of a recent second infection of Covid 19.
2nd Sep 2024 – Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United – letters to our body
1994ever 
Wow, that sounds challenging indeed!
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It is. I’m still coughing and lethargic and, worst of all, generally uninspired to write.
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Commiserations. But you rose to the occasion well in this instance. (Ready-made subject matter!)
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I have had it once, which was certainly enough! My heart goes out to you .. and I must say this is a realistic, honest description of what the worst is like. You did the disease justice.
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Thanks Helen. 🙏
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I’m still trying to reclaim some of my old energy and it’s been two months. I’ve only had COVID once and certainly don’t want it again.
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Good luck! I remember it took me several weeks to recover last time and this time feels much worse unfortunately.
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Oh, I truly know how that feels. I’m recovering from my second bout of the virus and I’ve spent the afternoon in bad once again.
Your poem describes it so well!
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Good luck to you too. Thanks for reading and commenting. 🙏
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