Last week normality ceased as the broadcast came
and doors shut on faces we greeted every morning.
Now we move through days as if underwater;
along quiet corridors, where small shoals of children ebb and flow;
weaving their way from space to space on parallel paths; pulled by invisible currents away from the solid anchorage of familiarity.
Hours seem longer and direction rudderless,
as we tread water and drift with the tide
to a place in time where a new normal can be found.
