I saw the grandmother, the daughter, the son, and the friend. I saw the nurse who gave me my vaccine, one of hundreds that day, and the technicians watching with careful eyes to make sure we were okay. It was quiet but I heard hope singing loudly. Hope cheered with every person who pushed up their sleeve, revealed their arm for prick, and breathed a bit of relief. Hope sent me dancing out the door that day and hope fuels me forward. At the beginning of our “quarantine” period, hope was abundant. We clung to hanging colorful heart shapes and placing teddy bears in the windows and shared every story of those going above and beyond to take care of each other. Hope faded fast, for me at least, as some grew weary of our waiting, forgot why we were staying inside, and the numbers grew. As anger rose and politics became the center of a discussion on safety, I laughed at the idea of “hope”. The pain of the pandemic, the constantly rising death tolls, the anxiety I experienced any time I had to go anywhere, the endless desire to hug my loved ones… All of this came to a colliding explosion with the murder of George Floyd and the agony of injustice once again boiling to the surface of this already overflowing pot. The stress and loneliness of this time has been additionally magnified as a teacher, both through my own experience on one side of the screen and in empathizing with the challenges my students are silently facing on the other side of the screen. We’ve been right at the tipping point for over 365 days. For a whole year, we’ve been ready to burst. This separation, this isolation, it’s been so very hard for so many of us. We’ve lost family, friends, neighbors, so many people. Our people. In our need to stay safe and away from our dearest loved ones, it often seems as if we’ve lost time itself. Today is the first day of spring and now, hope rises with the flowers. The vaccine is giving us the opportunity to gather once more. To hold hands and share food. To hug and to dance and to play. I saw all of that in the waiting room that day. Troy and I are only one dose in and we’re not at the point of engaging in those favorite activities quite yet but oh, I can feel it coming! I know that we can’t go back to make up for lost time or save those we’ve lost but we can learn from this time, gather our gratitude and move forward. Today feels different. It feels like joy renewed. It feels like hope. Shots in arms
Healing hands Rush of relief Feels like hope Tasting salt In the fabric The Grandmother The son The friend The people The people are feeling The world is healing A year flashed forward Time lost Time gained? March once more No normal Normal never was But new New day New ways Again, we pray That you, and I - That we will stay
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Karen UPArt, poetry, and a sampling of my creative endeavors! Archives
April 2023
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