Poem: Age of Four Walls and Zoom.

 

In light of the 2nd lockdown in the UK, I started to examine my feelings about it. It's not the same as the first,  not as restrictive, but it has brought a different sort of dread. In the beginning of the first time around, I spent a lot of my time in floods of tears. The isolation was overwhelming. This time, I'm anxious about whether this is ever going to really end.

In terms of restrictions, it has to end some time, of course. But there is an anxiety for a lot of people around how long we'll be prevented from having gatherings with the people we love. For some small businesses and the people they employ, there is a worry over whether they can keep their heads above water. For the likes of the theatre and live music industry - things that mean a lot to individuals and the general culture of this country and, indeed, the world - there's a real fear of going under entirely. This sort of damage could take a very long time to repair. 

It's just all so very sad.

I wrote a poem the other day to purge the sadness that's gathering inside me about what life has become. It's good to have a positive attitude, if you can. But sometimes, it is okay to feel sad for a bit and pick yourself up again later. I am sharing this poem with the message, "It's okay not to be okay for now. Things will get better."

Much love to you all.

V.

P.S. "Simon" refers to Simon Neil of the band Biffy Clyro, "Andrew" refers to the musical artist known as Hozier, and Katie Mack's book that he reads is "The End of Everything: (Astrophysically Speaking.)" which, judging by the excerpt I've heard, actually really interesting, so please don't be put off by my description in the poem. I've only used that phrasing because it's literally about the end of the world!

Age of Four Walls and Zoom.

First time we had to hide away,

comfort came from gin,

and Simon sang and played guitar.

Our Andrew read us poems,

and passages of Katie Mack's

book of death and doom.

How did his voice make that soothing

in the midst of all our gloom?

And I still see Simon's music room

as a comfort, seen

only on a screen

in the age of four walls and Zoom.

And then, it relaxed;

some time went past

but, for fear, I let not much change.

Isn't that strange,

when I've never so longed for freedom

from this room -

from these four walls and Zoom?

Now, freedom snatched away again,

I realise what I've missed

and, here's the twist,

who knows how long this all will take?

How much of our lives will be on hold?

Will I go grey and frail and old,

about to meet my end

in the same old wretched room,

in the never ending age

of four walls and Zoom?

© V. H. Stone