Coronavirus, the 11th Plague
Another day—when people cry,
And God looks out–as His children die.
A bitter wind—as cold as ice,
And God ignores—the sacrifice.
No end in sight—no hope to see,
We quake with fear—just you and me.
Our faces frozen—as horror abounds,
Just tears and sobbing—are the only sounds.
But wait—is that a dove on high?
Or maybe a rainbow—up in the sky.
The tiny buds of spring peek out,
Quietly above the roar and shout.
Do you see a path—within the dust?
Can God find us? He surely must!
When will His children smile again? And tears, when will they cease?
And from this horror—tell me God, will we ever find release?
– Toni Brackis Hoffman