Fools

The sun returns like a gift, your heavy chest drinks it in like long awaited medicine. Little embers continue to prick you when you breathe but then so does anxiety, it's too hard to know which diseases are of your own making. We stare at each other across screens but can offer little comfort, what a brave new world we are navigating, closing the doors to the storm outside but trying our best to experience as much of it as possible from behind the plexiglass. You do not tell your parents how your body feels. The cherries are in bloom along the river.

Surely there must be something at the other end of this that can offer us some meaning, some purpose? Surely we must come out of this a people changed, a newfound appreciation for another's warm skin, for streets alive? One bright morning two airplanes flew into very tall buildings and the city had never been more determined to live than in the devastation that came after. Surely we must want something more than just  a return to whatever came before?

I don't know now what I'm hoping. I'm so tired, just today, just let me lie down for a bit, let me quell this storm in my chest, I'll come back to you shortly, it's just today, this day, it's making fools of us all.