They lie there,
cocooned in the dark
mouths open wide
breathing in the air of
approaching death.

Removed from their homes
their families and friends.
No familiar sounds or smells.

An occasional caring caress
from a passing nurse or doctor
reassuring them that it’s OK.
We will care for you.

Once or twice a day, I pass by
observing the growing numbers
saddened that lives have to end
like this.

I don’t know their stories
their histories, their adventures.
Their lives without a narrative
slowly ebbing away.

I touch a hand.
Gently wipe a hot, sweaty brow.
Moisten dry lips and parched tongues.

Sadly, there is no response.
They are longer conscious to our world.

This virus has taken them
from all they know
plunging them into an isolation room
where they die alone.