We have all been
in a period of grieving
for two years.
Looking back at everything
that has taken place,
it’s a wonder that we
are somehow still human.
It began with that election
that took away the peace of the world.
We should have known
that it would be the beginning
of something, but there was no way
we could have foretold
what was coming.
It was like someone reached out
from the clouds above us,
pressed a finger to the earth
and put the world into a reboot.
At first, it was beautiful.
The world was quiet,
pollution went down,
the animals took back
what had been belonged to them.
I’ll always remember
when dolphins started to swim
in the canals of Venice,
making waves in absence of the boats.
When covid began
and we started to learn to live
within the confines of a pandemic,
I had hope that it would end.
The idea of a disease or virus
in my lifetime seemed impossible,
like something out a sci-fi novel,
yet here we were living it.
I thought that it would go away,
be gone within two weeks.
It has gone on for two years.
In that time, the world has become
a frightening place that I no longer
know or understand,
one where there is evidence
of so much hatred:
Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Daunte Wright, George Floyd,
I can’t breathe,
people taken from this earth
because of the colour of their skin.
When we couldn’t possibly take any more,
the bodies of indigenous children
were being found across our country,
thousands of bodies of children
that had their lives taken
because of what set them apart.
In my mind eye,
I could see them all wandering the land,
trying to find the home
that they had been taken from,
their spirits unsure of how to return
to the land that wanted to welcome them back.
It was the insurrection that lit the fire,
invoking something which had remained hidden,
lying in wait under the surface.
I watched the news that day
unsure if what I was seeing was real
of a figment of my imagination.
It was as if the madness
had been waiting all along
for the right opportunity
and now it had bubbled to the surface.
There were bright spots,
sun that peeked through the clouds
from time to time,
but underneath it all
there was the sense that
we were waiting.
When we had our own insurrection,
an occupation that took away
the breath of my city,
I watched as people began
to fight back, to find their voices again,
letting those that tried to take power
that they were no longer welcome.
Now, we watch as a country
on the other side of the earth
is at war.
The news brings us fresh horrors
every day, yet there are also spots of hope,
those that will not give up their lives,
that will not lie down and allow themselves
to be walked upon.
Though it might mean death,
they are choosing to use their voices.
They are choosing to fight.
Watching this, I wonder if the whole world
is just a powder keg and we will just watch
the whole thing explode,
scattering into the ether like so many stars.
We’ve entered a forgotten time zone,
all of the hate that has filled the world
for two years feels endless and yet
it’s as if no time at all has passed,
each day is the same.
We’ve forgotten what day it is
and sometimes, we forget a bit of ourselves.
If we are to move forward,
it has to be done with love.
We can all choose to fight
though the choice is not an easy one.
There are all kinds of battles being fought
all over the world.
Our own battle need not be complicated.
and we can choose to fight
so that we can reclaim the part
of our spirits that no longer knows
what time is.