Breezes cool along half-deserted streets
A quick smile from a stranger
Dressed in whispers, breath and ashes, solemn
Notice the scent of this coffee
Past spaced queues of shoppers, like dry dust
A flicker of contact online
Gathers in abandoned offices, waits
Another day done well enough
Without a word at the door, stifles tears
Work wearing a different face
With doubt, the numb howl in the chest
Catching sun at an open window
Those child-like eyes that never miss a thing
Our rituals evolve organically
False memories dancing at the edge
Body and breath, stillness
Of vision worrying at brief symptoms
Recovery is a process
Piled like forgotten bodies out of sight
Why want the same again?

Peter Appleton has worked in theatre, education and campaigning. He has lived and worked in several countries and is now settled in the UK. He is a Buddhist. He is particularly concerned with the meeting of the personal and political.