Sonnet №49- his spirit flown
Third in my series of CovidPoems
My friend, the Monsignor Richard Soseman, died from Covid_19 last Wednesday. I am heartbroken. Here in the US, we are now at 310,000 Covid_19 deaths. With reasonable leadership and a responsible citizenry, tens of thousands of those deaths would have been avoided. Requiescet in pace.
More than three hundred thousand dead by now.
I’m at a loss, how might anyone explain
the unknown meaning behind this cruel tao;
how all these lives have vanished in the rain?
We are all each one, both sons and mothers,
Perhaps your little girl, precious daughter,
mayhaps your Dad, your Aunt, your kind brother.
We are each, and each has seen the slaughter.
My neighbor lost his brother, his best friend.
Dead in hospital, fain his spirit’s flown.
When his lungs rasped their last, he met his end.
God dammit, this fine man died all alone.
What can we do, when all our hearts are torn,
but stay at home, fall to our knees and mourn.
— -May 2020