Rising from slumber the isolation refugees tumble in the grass, eyes not adjusted to sun swept landscape.

Charting new territories, noting losses heard in isolation chamber were true losses, invisible  until the bright burning sun assured the many were far fewer, world over. 

Many now gone were not in sight when isolation snd curfews began.  

Shuttered away, already isolated, then further isolated, as the unseen invader took advantage of crowded and airless hallways, stuffy small box rooms, their calls for help, relief, in fear and confusion, echo still in the chamber spaces. 

Battle weary medical troops still shocked as adjusting to the newer strategies, the recovering stricken, yet the first human casualties freshly intrude on the inner scape of the gowned and masked front liners. 

Back, back, forget,  forget screams the churning and sputtering machine.  Oil the gears, revve the engines, produce, produce, produce.  No time to take stock of your losses, the human losses, the family losses, the community losses. 

Your sense of safety, your grief, your denial, your pain, let go, let go, don’t stare at it, make believe it never happened.  Bodies in the first waves stacked in refrigerator trucks outside the hospital war zone?   No, a dream. 

Your dead, well they’re gone, move on, move on, nothing to see here.  Your isolation you can’t break, your walled off protective shell, your nagging fears of a worse day? Move on, move on, let it go, let it go. 

Machines grind on now, churned by the weary grief repressed released.  Move on, move on, let it go, let it go, nothing good can come of dwelling.  

But, silent echoes and standing guards remind.  Buzz from place to place, quickly, as if slowing and feeling is a curse, grieving a waste, human a luxury for the few, humane a tonic only some can drink. 

Move on, move on, nothing left to see here.