Summoning Themis

It was the way the virus hunted us,
Daring the healthy to outrun its grasp.

Like home invaders, viral proteins bust
In to disarm the cells, assume command,
While ushering its hunger inside us.

We summoned Themis, begged her to preserve
Sane nature’s laws. Contagion is unjust.

Don’t pious offerings deserve their due?

Cold oracle, empowered to foresee
Our future, held her scales, made no reply.

Her daughters, the Three Fates, intervened, said:
“Why do you think you’ll have the final say?”

Damp winds snuffed out wax candles, slammed bronze doors.

Green patience whispered: “Men built holy shrines,
Thus intimating their own impotence.”

Ahead of today’s terrestrial sweetness,
Bold skies igniting hope, fond golden bird.