The Firefighters

an experience of Covid 19

What was the first spark?
A careless touch,
A cough,
An inhalation - wrong place, wrong time…

A forest fire virus
Rages
Rampages through me.

I burn.

Into this inferno
I send out 
My Firefighters.
I feel them
Running through my veins
To the many firelines
Under attack.

This fire,
Malevolent, cunning, wanton,
Seeking always to get 
A leap ahead;
Another symptom, another organ, limb
Attacked.
Seeking always
In its reckless burning
To consume Me.

My Firefighters
Dig firebreaks,
Battle.
I send supplies -
Water, water, water,
Paracetamol, juice
Cereal, soup, pasta, chocolate
Sleep, sleep, sleep
And repeat.
I try to keep their strength up.

At times,
I sense 
My exhausted brigades,
Wiping away sweat, smuts and smoke,
The strains of combat.
And then they go again
Valiant defenders to the death.

Anxious to be doing something
I ask them
“How can I help?”
Their reply is always
“Rest”
“Get out of the way”
“Let us do our job”

So I do as I am told.
And realise in that surrender time,
For the first time,
In such a long lifetime,

That I love,
Am in awe
Of this little body of mine.
Its bravery
Its stubborn tenacity
Its “Not this time!” 
Its “Not yet!”
To age, infirmity, infection.

I rest.
I encourage my Firefighters.
I hug my miraculous body
I stroke my own arm
Squeeze a shoulder
Whisper
“Keep going!”
“Please don’t give up!”

If I could
I would kiss my own cheek in tender gratitude.

My Firefighter antibodies
Lift their chins
Polish their helmets
Shoulder their equipment
Remember their training
Head for the firelines yet again.
And do their job.

Copyright Tina Towey 2022