It took a year
For real life to strike

For angst and pain
And loss and blame
To seep into my being

For life to change
Beyond repair
To mock my naïve hopes
That one day not too long from now
We’d all be tossed a rope
an aid for getting back the life
I thought it was a given
Offered, earned or taken
No doubt this should be written

I have been mocked and laughed at
Humiliated fully
Who said the silver lining
Would ever be rewarded?

Who said that thinking bright and light
Would lead to us to be Kings?
Who said that keeping open arms
Would fill them with good things ?

The neighsayers, the doomsdayers
Now they reacted first
“Our lives will never be the same”
“Ridiculous “I cursed
if I can power through this thing
if I can hold my stead
then surely I’ll deserve it
no doubt I’ll be rewarded

But one year on and I’m still here
With nothing but one thought
They won, those ******* called it
life will never be retold

I’ll never see my favourite band
while squashed amongst my peers
I’ll never hold my child’s hand
and lead her in a cheer

I’ll never feel the pulse of crowds
that carry and transport me
to realms beyond myself
of ecstasy and joy

I’ll never share the joys of life
with the village I belong to

I’ll never give away my child
Surrounded by my friends

I’ve lost my veiled city walks
the company of strangers
those vagabonds, those chatterbombs
those rambling raging tourists

I’ve lost the freedom of a roam
in endless ***** markets
Of touching things and smelling them
And shaking hands with sellers

I want to squeeze into the tube
on an August summer’s day
and smell the sweat and body odours
by which I onced dismayed

I want to push across a bar
And plead to get my drink
and tut and huff towards the guy
who pushed to get ahead

I want to curse and shout and stomp
for my favourite football team
and fight with the opposing side
and trample on their dream.

I want my smile to be seen
by the burly shopping clerk
to roll my window down at lights
To greet an immigrant
I want to hand him my donation
to place it in his palm
and not be scared or worried
that I’ll end up coughing phlegm.

I want my children to live free
Of masks and antiseptic
and live a life that’s full and rich
with all relationships

A life complete with crowds and queues
and large scale celebrations
Of smelly loos, of flowing *****
And stinky sweaty ballrooms

The life that I once doubted
Despite my best intentions
And now its gone and I don’t know
if I will get it back.

A wasted year of optimism
Thinking all would be ok
A year of denial and
dare I say
a year of baseless consolation.