QUARANTINE LIFE: POETRY PROMPT--NO WORRIES

NO WORRIES

Whatever "IT" is, 

It's not drought nor disease

Your door's not been darkened

By either of these

It's not hunger, nor want

You've not missed a meal

Something was there to nourish

Though, perhaps, not ideal

You're not waiting for rescue

Nor seeking relief

Sleeping under tarp

On a cold, and hard street

The destruction you see

Is by way of TV

Distant innocents cry, 

"Why's this happening to me?"

No, whatever IT is 

It isn't a quake

No disaster that you must substantiate

You've just opened your eyes

You're not wracked with pain

And the first thing you're inclined to do

Is COMPLAIN?

Or fret?

Or worry?

Why IS it that we

Forget to be grateful, so easily?

No missiles, nor bombs rain overhead

You're not scrounging through rubble

For a crust of bread

Nor sifting through what's left

Of all that you had

Look around! 

What you DO see

Should make you quite glad!

Just stop, take a moment

Assess and compare

Your condition HERE, with

What's happening THERE

Look around! 

Whatever "IT" is for you

Is a far cry from what 

Many others go through

You woke up

Let's start there

So many did not

You could move on your own

Consider your lot

You flipped switches; turned faucets

And everything works

Time to tear down that place

Where anxiety lurks

And makes you lose sight

Of your fortunate state;

Not cast bad thoughts aside

And procrastinate

Turn the molehill "IT" is

To a mountain of doubt,

So you can see you've nothing

To worry about

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