On these days at home,

I am left with only myself.

How blank everything feels when you can’t live in the world around you.

The calmness unsettles me.

There are no expectations to be vibrant and eventful.

And my body becomes its own cage.

Wrapped in a blanket whose weight is my own thoughts.

But I don’t feel the darkness creep into this calmness.

Instead a touch of uncertainty.

Not knowing when I may breathe amongst others again.

In the meantime, I will rediscover the parts of myself that make me.

When we no longer are constrained by time.

Who do we become?

Do we become shells, or do we become creators?

Sometimes I morph between the two.

But if I can’t be a part of something big, then I will become something big.

My heart will remember what it means to be innocent and new.

My soul will remember what it means to feel long steady joy.

I will remember why we are all doing this.