Soul lethargy is not
It is soul sloth.
Like Sherlock asleep
on his exercise wheel,
I emerge from this pandemic
afraid to get back on the wheel,
curled up instead around my COVID fat
feeling sorry for myself.
Feeling pseudo-safe in a cocoon
of my own making.
A cocoon leading not to new life
but to one doomed to die by soul sloth.
My soul opens like a morning glory
starved for sunlight, waiting
for grace to pull me up.
Divine Spirit ever folding and unfolding,
Show me the way out.
In the asking, soul sloth becomes
c. Rita H Kowats 5-30-21
* Apologies to my feline sleuth for so cavalierly exposing his soul and fat belly for all to see.