A week into our first lockdown, back in March, 2020, I was feeling a little more familiar with the routine of being entirely inside 24/7. I was wondering however, what was really happening with the virus yet, quite convinced that after 21 days we would be 'unlocked'. Little did I know that this strict lockdown would be extended to seven weeks and that my initial flickering thoughts of how life would proceed after lockdown would manifest into something I could have hardly imagined.
Reviewing the language I used in the poem, I'm reminded that I really had no foresight on how things would be. For example, I say 'a week is already done' and I refer to 21 days as a fixed length of time. Almost like the virus period would be finite and ticking off the days would be meaningful somehow. While at the same time, there is some questioning of the landscape of life after lockdown lingering in the back of my mind which also sort of peeks through.
Here are my thoughts from 30th March, 2020
This day went faster than all the days before.
It seems strange when I can't place the days any more.
Work deadlines to meet, rushing to complete.
Wondering if everything I'm doing is now obsolete.
Using it to fill the hours, the minutes, the days.
All the moments are becoming a bit of a haze.
Wishing the days away is now a daily game.
Waiting impatiently to go out again.
My Dad always said, 'don't wish your life away.'
I wonder if he'd say the same, even still today.
He probably would; we're the impatient generation.
He's calm and cool while I'm bursting with frustration.
Yet, I'm surprised that a week is already done.
A week without my face feeling the sun.
Maybe this isn't so bad after all, these 21 days.
Just 14 more before we go back to our old ways.
Will it be weak to go back to our same old ways?
Would it be a waste of these 21 days?
Will it even be possible to do the same old things?
Fly around the same way with our old and weathered wings.
Restrictions, hesitations, more careful future thoughts.
Imposed or self-decided, who's going to call the shots?
Only time will tell; that guardian of all.
Time will determine the nature of the next roll call.
Comments