by Duane Anderson
I do not drive to church
to attend one of its services,
for the lights are off,
the doors are locked.
There will be no live services,
no one to greet you,
no one to worship with.
Instead, I head downstairs,
turn on the computer and click
on the link for the service
the pastor recorded a few days earlier,
an abbreviated service,
no sharing of the peace,
I wave a palm,
but it is only my hand that I wave.
Nothing is the same
except for the coronavirus that is still with us.
I say a prayer for it to disappear,
then must wait to see if my prayers are answered.
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, Poesis Literary Journal and several other publications. Sulochana Mahe is an artist based in India’s former French outpost, Mahe. She dissolves herself day in, day out in social work, and art. Her work includes teaching painting to cancer patients, helping them overcome their sense of being doomed. She taught art to 150 prisoners at the Central Prison, Kannur, moving their minds to the softer sides of life. Teaching art to women at a care home in Thalassery gives her joy that colors can’t.