I have coronavirus

I have coronavirus

by Jonathan Becedas

I have coronavirus:
the virus of death;
the virus that left humanity
without wisdom,
without experience,
without memory;
the virus that has stopped
our feet.

And now what?
Do I flip a coin
to see what comes out?
And what if it shows tails?

What will happen to my little ones?
What will happen to my elders?
What will happen to my love?
What will happen to me?

The Earth breathes behind the window.
Now that she can.
She had the rope around her neck
and turned purple.
Now she squeezes us a little
so we know what happens
when we are short of breath.

And while the birds sing,
my lungs burst.

Maybe we deserve it,
but me too?
I did nothing.
Maybe that's why:
because I was a coward,
one more soldier
subjugated to the power,
hugging "progress",
spreading rubbish,
starting the car,
getting on the train,
selling myself,
underestimating time,
helping destroy everything.

But what about our little ones?
They did nothing wrong.
Maybe that's the reason
the coin showed them heads.

Oh! But not me,
not yet.
It is still too early!
I have a lot to do!
I can change!
I will be better!
Yes, but the virus does not make distinctions,
and my mistake was to be like the other people.
Perhaps the worst thing is that I couldn't choose.
They made me like this.
And now, that I wanted to change,
it is too late.
Dammit!

But I'm not afraid,
nonetheless.
I'm calm for myself
because I'm going back to where I came from;
but what I leave behind
makes me cry.
I’m sorry, my children;
maybe I'll miss my promises …
I'm sorry, mother;
I know it shouldn't be like this.
I’m sorry, father;
I did what I could.
Forgive me, my love,
until death do us part.

I close my eyes
And while the sun
warms my pale skin
I listen to the Earth,
in the silence of humans.

Then, the bells ring:
It is eight o'clock in the evening:
It is time to applaud the warriors.
The claps resound in their own echo.
Cheers and vuvuzelas
encourage the sirens of the battle.
The march is marked by the melody
played from a sixth floor,
and when Gloria Gaynors’
chorus comes,
I say to myself:
“I will survive!”