it's been a year, and all i can think,
is i can't believe how long it's been.
i still remember that last school day:
laughter and tears in the hallways,
tight embraces, nervous faces,
with certainty we'd be back soon.
march turned to april, to may, to june,
and we adjusted, panicked, tired,
brains overheated, frayed wires.
we didn't realise how many dead
we would mourn, watching the tv
anxiously as the numbers went up.
we didn't realise how much we loved
being around people, or how much
we would crave some others' touch.
or maybe we found solace in this
growing silence, beds comforting,
light falling on unbrushed hair.
it was the worst of times, the most
terrible thing to have ever happened.
it was the best of times, i mumble,
selfishly, looking at who i am today
after everything that happened.
when everything was taken away,
i found myself, even though i hate
that it took a pandemic to find me.
so much has occurred, but somehow,
nothing seems to come to mind.
this isn't a poem. i'd be ashamed
if it were considered poetic. this is
remembering. remembering the
battles we fought - and won? this is
saluting soldiers as they fought for us,
keeping us alive. this is for the friends
who reached out and made sure we
were still there, still going, even
when the world collapsed on us.
this is not a poem. this is a memory.
it's ugly, uncomfortable. it has no
rhythm. it has little rhyme, too.
memories are either cherished or
completely forgotten. this? this shall
be neither. i will not cherish this,
but i shall never forget. we shall
never forget what we went through.
light a candle for the fallen, today.
light a smile for those still standing.
both should never be forgotten.
it's been a year, and all i can think,
is i can't imagine what next year brings.