Survival

It was a crazy, inhumane corrective,
Incarcerating the world for a year.
It drove some insane,
While others regained their sanity.
There were no bail bondsmen sitting around
That one could call to pry open those locks
Prematurely,
And visitation rights were cruelly curtailed.
Twelve months spent in febrile austerity,
Twelve months of universal confinement,
So decreed, and a solitary sequestering
In most cases.
Will we recover? Or stumble--unhinged--
Always fearing the next mutation,
The next tidal wave
That will sweep across our fragile composure,
For it will come, I attest, I assure you!
It will come, and only the fittest among us
(As textbooks inform us)
Will survive.