Standing in my heatless house, silent exception of dripping faucets.
Gazing at the darken street, hoping for movement, praying for none.
Entangled in huddled embrace, trying to capture and contain human heat.
A flickering candle, a beacon of light, a dancer of shadows.
Fearful of the next failure hiding around the corner.
Knowing that daylight will come, but hours to ride.
Nervously checking for misplaced water, melting snow.
Feelings of separation by The Pandemic, intensified as time stands still
Wanting to help, not knowing where, knowing enough to stay still
Longing for sleep, the respite of dreams, dreading of day and what’s to come
As the world rights itself for some, it spins out of control for others
What will we have learned, what will we change?
Or will the lessons, disappear like footprints in the melting snow?
One holds their breath, no longer daring to ask…
“What’s next?”
At this hour there are still homes without water, without heat. Just because the worst is behind some of us, does not mean it’s behind all.
It was a dreadful week ~ we has a busted pipe, frozen pipes, no heat ~ but we had each other and that, in the end, was enough.
