Perfect Storm odyssey

a ‘Perfect Storm’ odyssey

by David L Lewis

The Ship of State sailed unhindered upon every sea.

Of all Ships and States the leader she’d always be.

Came a pretender skipper who’d never sailed or led.

He rented the great Ship with motives still unsaid.

From the west, quietly an invisible storm gathered.

While seething waves awoke, the ship soon hazarded.

Storms brewed, warnings sent, it can’t be that bad.

There were passengers to impress, profit to be had.

The novel skipper blissful of all outside the ship,

Denied any truth which might dare deviate his trip.

Obtuse leadership failing at hour of greatest need.

Public health forfeited to lure of political greed.

Strength strengthening strength, named it Pandemic.

Pouring out on earth, suffering and death prolific.

To avoid sorrow society did what it always must do.

We shut down our lives, many sacrifice for the few.

Most precarious economy in 90 years quickly folded.

Built on spending and debt, it was soon overloaded.

Forty-million furloughed, paid to live in one room.

At home we learned to connect by Tweet and by Zoom.

Slowly began re-openings, free to do something new.

Jobs not re-opening, freedoms meant not much to do.

Thus was formed the conflagration for a generation.

Almost unseen, combining storms reached combustion.

The Spark came with shameful death of one lone man,

Fueled by an idea whose time had come; storm began.

Spring weather, noble cause, fast winds of the Net.

Peaceful demonstrators, invaded by an evil mindset.

Unrest, absent since the 60’s, turned another tide.

A perfect storm soon overflowed barriers worldwide.

Storms reveal in skippers both the weak and strong.

The strong take responsibility for what goes wrong.

But this pretender skipper again did rant and rave.

Ignore deadly wind, he alone could calm every wave.

Battle Stations, load the guns, dominate the field.

To truth or facts pretender skippers can not yield.

All storms pass, but there is always more to story.

Preventable loss buried, any good papered in glory.

Voyages end, ships re-arm, sail again to face harm.

Who will helm our ship during a next perfect storm?

..an odyssey to be continued?