When I was eight,
The Great Recession began.
During it,
I heard a line
that floated
off the page of a poem
and into me
“We hope the world survives.”
– Hope –
I remember that
and the nights I spent
sat up
on the uncomfortable
wheezy wooden floor
of my home
constructing a new one
from Legos,
where I could see
by way of a light switch
not a Coleman lantern.
Where I could eat
by way of a real stove top
not a portable one.
You’d think
that I was camping,
not sweating
in the stagnant air
of a house
devoid of power.
Now,
a virus moves
unseen among grass
beneath out feet,
flirts between the vacancy
of embraces
and
the fear of a handshake.
We speak words
underneath masks
and hope –
that this,
will be over soon.
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 5:05 PM UTC
When I was eight,
The Great Recession began.
During it,
I heard a line
that floated
off the page of a poem
and into me
“We hope the world survives.”
– Hope –
I remember that
and the nights I spent
sat up
on the uncomfortable
wheezy wooden floor
of my home
constructing a new one
from Legos,
where I could see
by way of a light switch
not a Coleman lantern.
Where I could eat
by way of a real stove top
not a portable one.
You’d think
that I was camping,
not sweating
in the stagnant air
of a house
devoid of power.
Now,
a virus moves
unseen among grass
beneath out feet,
flirts between the vacancy
of embraces
and
the fear of a handshake.
We speak words
underneath masks
and hope –
that this,
will be over soon.
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