This is Not Home.

This is Not Home.

_-A Prosetry-_ 

     *This is Not Home.

      Dear Our World!* 

This should not be my last letter; don’t you think? It is a story of us being between the burried and us.

You can call it our thought about suicide!

You have never been perfect; wars, plagues, and of course, that hippy in Oregon are of your commonship. I will not say! 

There is a visitation of another unneeded social misfit. With its presence, I am invaginating all hopes away. 

Why are You allowing this

iniquitously ubiquitous pasteboard to stay? It is mandatorily overruling us. Every stay has been transversed into a horror movie; wishes are not horses, anymore. The law is reserving itself a withdrawal of social interractionism. It is a positive law to stay

inside. No one dares to volitionally warm Your streets and economy, anymore.

Was this your plan? You got us used to all conventions of humanity, and eventually, our governments are

now retraining us to know otherwise. This is cheating; You know!

Staying home

is chiefly a night affair. Why do You want us to reposition that thought, now? 

I look through the window all day! Have I never been outside? These streets look so leer- no man walking and no busy traffic. I had prayed for these days but not under this cover; nevertheless, this instituted social injuction is different.This is different!

My exuberance is quarantined. My youthfulness is

not of usefulness, anymore! 

Virtualness, before now had been an incessantly positively unsettling friend of my generation. My pastors had, however dutifully discouraged an addiction to such and advised a continuousness of physical meetings. Now, what would they advise? 

I am writing this letter with a cold shoulder. I am ready to pounce on you with anger, but I will restrain myself on a second thought! Soon, I will visit the juju as an alternative. Anyway, you will not make me! God taught me to be patient during a storm.

 I am ready to have this talk with you! I don’t want to give up the ghost like this. Let me have a turn to see my grandchildren. I am sure this will pass, but I am in despair. I am in shock, so I am scared for my life!

Look, I am not blaming only you for this. I am blaming the cause of this result, as well- a cause that I cannot tell!

 COVID-19, is it? Why such name? You would ask. Well, it sundered out in 2019, and in today’s medical

ignorance, medical scientists are to give people a name for an indoor fanfare social media outrage. Have you been seeing the memes? Ignorantly fun, huh!

Anyway, this virus is very far-fetched to our knowledge so far, but we know not a little about it. In my cautious pessimistic voice, we know nothing about it!

Trembling times are these, but the weak and the strong are finding solace together from the same place.

Somebodies have been fooling me. I trusted these somebodies; I had stuck to their TV briefs every night. They had been telecommunicating like heck. Heck no! We all are telecommunicating now. Hello! Howdy! It is over the phone, World! Everything has to be done there now. I shop on my phone. I ‘cook’

on my phone.

We are no longer resistant to automation. Suprising, right? 

Limited welfarism is around. The poor are gutted. Some countries have charitably impacted their masses already, but others have left all to fend- for the poor, on a land of nothing.

How are the lives of the poor at times like now? They surely

need a miracle. The force of human wickedness still spirals some startlings in their lives. They might be quarantined, but wickedness to them is not being. 

Donations for them have been incoming, and many of those donations are being misused now. I can feel it! We are inside, but we are still creatures of our habit, and surely corruption is a habit of our creation! It is that difficult, but the media is there to report the news to us after this. 

The conditionalities are not sung yet, but every recovery plan does not have to be parallel; is it now, IMF? 

We are waiting. There are a lot for us to see, after this. The worst has indeed not come yet! We are all on an holiday for now. We should fight the uncommonly common enemy and then, splat! It

is our thing! 

World, we sit indoors and pray. We can do that best now. All the shops are down. All the sleep overs and nightcaps are over, and for my fellow youths, the non-chaperoned parties are more or less quarantined in our dreams. 

It is like all slides of nefariousness are on vacation. Some have, however not been.

 Maybe World, you are disappointed with our sinful reciprocalness, so you have chosen to replay the story of Noah’s Ark in our century. Is it not God’s?

 At any rate, We are too useful to be used for this. We are your nightmare. At least, you have us!  

Give us time! Give us time to change. Give us time to force everybody nilly-willy to obey

conventions and think wildly within the rules. We might not succeed but give us a try. 

Our stakes, we might get higher now! We are not promising anything, but we are ready to listen- even if not cooperatively. We just need our home back. Please!!

Yours!

©Salia Gaima

 ~Copyright of SG Series~_-

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