Adrian Lam

Adrian Lam- Sonnet from Home Isolation

Our lives are cluttered in panic, in fear.

Hide we must, and captured we may seem

As indoors we stay. Laying close to those near.

Almost locked completely in a cold dream.

Here he comes. Marching through the streets. Cower,

For if his foul hands ever grasped… panic.

Gradual wearing of our systems. Pains so sour,

Aches, which come and go, fevers volcanic.

By his strings, our lives hang in part prayer.

Puppets are we? Strained by simple string; steered

From simple times, contort from past aware.

And our light stays concealed, our vision; bleared.

Sunlight will soon shine on us once again,

But for now, we stay distractedly sane.