Write Through Doors

A poem I wrote yesterday, and edited today.

Caution: May cause your brain to bend in thought.

Virus. Why Us?

I went to look
For an answer,
In a book.
Man’s Search for Meaning
By Viktor Frankl
I found my copy, yellowed.
Hello!
I knew it had wisdom.
But I felt dumb.

What was his point?
It’s slippery, sifted through
My hand like a fist of sand
Washed from my brain by
Beach sunset champagne

I get it, I don’t get it
I get it, I don’t get it
I must reread, rethink because
God has pressed our
Reboot button.

Virus? Why us?
A: To find our “why”
Says Frankl-We all suffer but we choose our own “why” – our life meaning.

This is our moment to find
What we cling to in life.
Family. Religion. Community.

In other words:
“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
—said Nietzche. Peachy.

My mother thrived with a birth defect.
Stephen Hawking thrived with ALS.
Victor Frankl thrived mentally in a concentration camp.

I wash my hands.
A clean beginning.
We are home, quarantined
Time to think.
How many tomorrows?
No guarantees.
But I’m hoping, please.
Today. An Xcellent day to find my Why.

–Debbie Merion

Do you know your Why?  Please share.