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,

can’t comprehend,

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

with love

so that we can reclaim the part

of our spirits that no longer knows

what time is.