My stomach ties itself in knots.
I spend ages sitting in the bathroom as I empty every worry, fear and stress I have accumulated
And then I go back downstairs and fill up on some more.
It’s flight or fight and I have chosen the in-between
Because the flights are grounded and dreams are put on pause for now
And fighting is for other people.
We live from day to day, hour by hour
Waiting for the big one
The wave that will knock us all down, the one we will all feel
Except it is silent, invisible and random.
Not like our grandparents who could hear and see the enemy even if it was only the low hum in the sky.
This time men and women will go out and men and women will not come back and there is no country to bomb to even the score.
The dead will only be counted if their toe-tag fits the government approved message.
The clapping won’t save you and the men and women in blue bin bags and paper masks will still die.
The final toll will only be after it is too late to notice what we have lost
And that what we have lost we were all complicit in losing.
My stomach ties itself in knots again.
I sit in the bathroom as I empty every worry, fear and stress I have accumulated.
My dreams also take a tumble and I am not sure I will ever get them back to where they were
And the ‘next time’s’ and ‘there’ll always be time’ now become something precious that I was reckless with and didn’t fully understand.
So I go back downstairs and make more promises to myself.
Photo Credit: The National Guard Flickr via Compfight cc
