I remember
a Monday
grey darkness outside
your little apartment
home to a husband
a son
a daughter
and you
here while
the rest of your family starves and shudders
and cries in Liberia
battling the unspeakable evil
called Ebola
we watch the video
on your phone
the people in the street
deciding the best answer to fear
would be a parade
bright colors moving through
the streets before
walking home for the quarantine
your family
far from the city streets
in a tiny village
less chance to meet
the virus
but so much more helpless
without a hospital
should the enemy strike
Agnes
I think of you when
I see calling birds
careening
through the darkening sky
