Rainbows Behind Glass: A Lockdown Anthology

CHRIS COX (He/Him) Chris is a former engineer turned welfare benefits and housing support worker, occasional pianist, even more occasional cyclist and enjoys tinkering with dangerous voltages. When not elbow deep in obsolescent audio equipment, he occasionally writes. No website or Facebook page, his writing is nothing like serious enough for that. Pre-lockdown, Chris was a regular at the Worcester Repair Cafe and he is hoping for a resumption in due course, since he enjoys nothing more than fixing somebody’s mucky old vacuum cleaner. Chris is quite good at irony. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 51

“Two Metres” How far is two metres? Bamboo cane end to end Two thirds of a cow Distance to a friend A radio wavelength Ham radio band A critical distance A line in the sand How far is two metres? It feels not that much Eighty snails in a row Far enough not to touch The length of a bed Alas what a bore! A small parking space The new social more 52 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Lockdown Haiku x 4 Shopping is weird now Everyone standing in line There are toilet rolls! Easing of lockdown Charity shop bonanza! Won’t know what hit them But is it too soon? A distraction from failure? “Support bubble” - burst Walking through city With nothing to do but shop No pubs, no toilets RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 53

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BECKY LEONARD-DIXON (She/Her) Becky Leonard-Dixon is a thirty something Yorkshire woman living in the Midlands. She has written poetry intermittently since her teens and enjoys riding her motorbike, playing the guitar and singing. She works for a housing charity and part of her role is to champion equality, diversity and inclusion. In 2017 she won the accolade of “most inspiring” from her organisation and in 2020 she was delighted to be recognised by Stonewall as “Role Model Of The Year” for her dedication in promoting workplace equality. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 55

Covid-19 The Corona has us grounded We must stay home to stay safe, Don’t go out unless we have to These restrictions are starting to chafe But I’ve never been so well connected With vibrant assemblies on zoom All alone in my fortress With friends virtually in the room Humans really do astound me Such resilience, us all, so strong We’ll kick Covid out of here In our world, it doesn’t belong 56 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

My Pal Fear Fear fills me for those I love Despair that they could die Dismay that I’ll live without them Left alone, wondering why I dread falling back into black Slipping into erratic insomniac But I’ve been through so much already That fear is like an old friend It doesn’t own me anymore And I know that this will end RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 57

Physical Distance Six feet away Some distance between Some want to hug But I’ve never been keen Six feet away To protect our health Not much change for me Solitude is my wealth Six feet away Is ideal for me Don’t like to be touched Try and I’ll flee Lockdown is hard No doubt about that But the distance is good Doesn’t keep us from chat 58 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

There’s Room For You At odds with life Staying well is a struggle Keep it clear in your mind It’s not a permanent juggle This too will pass You’ll come out alive Accept the thoughts And continue your drive You know that your brain Is a lying little sod Neurodiverse Not ugly or odd Don’t let it win Think of what you’ll miss There’s still room for you On the other side of this RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 59

Pride 2020 The protest for us is cancelled The festivities and fun too Covid’s locked it all down Because our numbers grew and grew Lots of us will still be visible On platforms across the world Don’t worry, it’s not really cancelled Just on hold, deferred Pride itself happens everyday Because it lives inside of us It’s burned deep into our souls The important matters are still discussed There’s lots to join online And books to read are plenty Fill your June with learning Don’t let it feel empty We’ll have our party next year And won’t it be amazing We’ll have beaten Covid And be back to our embracing 60 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Ruby Friendships like ours Only come along once in a while I’ve been so lucky to watch you grow up And to know your beautiful smile You’re a brilliant, kind person Full of hope and fun and love You’re strong and smart and wise enough To know when you need to be tough I’m proud of you every day But Ruby, especially today As you celebrate in lockdown Your special 13th Birthday RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 61

Solitary Fun Flying through the air Reaching out to the side The wind in my face Just get lost in the ride Take those curves Keep steady, stay strong Nothing can bother me While I’m riding along That feeling of freedom This rush of pure bliss They watch as I go Gentle laughs, that I’m a Miss All armoured up Hot in the gear Surrounded, protected Don’t think about fear Enjoy this moment Take in the view Clearing my head Feel alive, like new 62 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

All Alone Now I feel emptiness inside A lifeless soul Commanding my body Fear is in my heart Hell is in my head All alone now All alone There’s nothing RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 63

The Course Well done you! You got up and you came To unlock creative energy Trapped in a PTSD brain You took the first step You met everyone You knew that they’d be friendly But seriously, well done! Classes got moved to Zoom And you’ve continued to engage Isn’t writing a lovely way To release all that rage! You’ve found a new community Where people respect your art It’s so wonderfully fulfilling To unload a heavy heart 64 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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LYDIA SOFIA (She/Her) Lydia Sofia is a former journalist living in Worcestershire. She writes largely about the experience of gender transition from a partner’s point of view, and themes from nature often feature. For the past seven years, she has worked supporting victims of sexual violence. She is on Instagram @lydiasofiawrites RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 67

Not Just An Empty Cavern Hoping In Lockdown I am sure there is more to be known of a person than what can be read in their face between frown lines and sallow skin and a sloping downward curve unreliable twine of each line from the lip and each crease and expressions I don’t know how to read. Instead I’d divine with the entrails and punch in through the stomach cupping out handful after handful of sand and seashells/of mountain rock dust/a bag full of ocean a complication of stars / an intricate network of cornflowers / the scented dripping of hot wax fingers mingling with the incense pouring through the hole. It’s warm inside and my hands are slick with rain drops and vibrant greens and velvet cushions and not greeted by an empty hollow of human so desperate to be filled. 68 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

I Don’t Even Drink Coffee Learning In Lockdown Do you remember our first time confined to solitary bubbles? When we ate, slept, breathed in a pattern that if followed assured us life? You might only snatch memories in dreams, or in nightmares of dark places but you won’t remember in this chic café. The lights are too bright and the menu too busy for your mind to think of anything but what type of milk you want. How many sugars did you used to have? We and the world are very different since the last time cold hands were cupped around coffee cups. We have both given names to the faces that eventually emerged in our papered walls and I can tell you that there are 27 aertex swirls on my bedroom ceiling and I know all of my neighbour’s names now. We are all very much aware of our best angles on the small screen. We did a lot of growing in the dark this time, too, and parts that hadn’t had chance in all these years to heal reformed in the black amniotic sac of our four walls. We shift awkwardly on the metal seats in the city street not knowing how we should sit in public anymore. Relaxed? Alert? Is there a new way of holding ourselves that shows we are excited to be alive, that we have suffered and that we have grown but are also in mourning? This is easily the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 69

The Old Man Of Calke Lockdown Lessons From The Ancients There is a stillness here conjured from the leaf song of trees that have perfected patience. This old man has learned how to live; 1,200 years of life and still he gives. After all he has seen of us he must feel we are worth the oxygen. 70 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Breathing Thunder Lessons From Animals In Lockdown Once I let my pet rabbit escape into the rain. A raging cauldron of violence erupted above And she nestled beneath her favourite bush To watch droplets splosh and drum like a River song. I ran madly about in pantomime As the flood of raging skies relieved The dam of my eyes and I felt The pounding on my brain subside With each blinding lightning strike. I crouched, feet squelching in sodden grass. Deeply breathing thunder, Hair dripping and icy sheets slashing my cheeks As a windchime trilled a crazed crescendo. I let her be and shook life from my skin, Wishing an excuse wasn’t needed for bathing in storms. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 71

Uprooting Studying Nature In Lockdown When the last human eye has turned in the ancient king will make his nightly pilgrimage across the land. Branches bending in the evening balm, his crown a wilderness of nests he rests while the magical song of night begins to play; the chorus of a shaken windchime, the low hum of distant traffic, a scurrying beneath the apple tree tiny feet barely crunching leaves. He whips up a wind to chase me away and I feel the fearful thrill of facing nature but I dare not stay – the earth won’t spill secrets deeply rooted so readily. 72 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Travels In Green Dreaming Of Prague In Lockdown The fairy is luring us in. Her fluttering swings shimmer in an emerald dream and headfirst we stream towards her glow. Hundreds of glass bottles in a row, of singular shapes, twisted old vials. Insect eyes beguile from their stasis and abstract faces peer out from dust-cloaked shelves. But how to choose my poison? The drip-drip-drip of the water from the fountain, droplets mounting on the delicate cube. It mixes slowly with the curious liquid and after that the street is darker than before, the cobbles now mysteriously harder to navigate. My friend slurs something about wormwood, Van Gogh, Something about insanity, but it tastes like freedom to me. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 73

Hakone Dreaming Of Japan In Lockdown A map to me is a pointless, pretty pattern; the web woven by a spider when all eight legs are dipped in coloured ink. You pause to think while I drink in another new building, new road sign, new vibes from a café I’ll never step inside. We rush on by because we must. On the bus we are both too enthralled with the world outside to be called to conversation we soak it all in through a pane as smeared as the face of a child who just discovered chocolate spread is a thing. A view from a bridge of a grasp of trees, their bare branches dusting up the mountainside in that ancient way in which nature keeps nature. Our Ryokan, precarious but watchful high upon a slope, appears respectful of the rocks below or so we hope because from here they look treacherous despite the centuries the current has put in trying to smooth their edges. Seated inside, we sip green tea and pretend we are in a horror game, the very same we adored as children. Adore now. How far from pixels – this place is a dream, the arc of which you dread to speak aloud lest like a cloud it floats further out of sight. Out to the night we are cloaked in the steam from the Onsen. We peer out across tree-tops and a town that in darkness is speckled with light as moths flit left then right and some strange creature calls out all alone. 74 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

We are safe together we tell ourselves as we skip on through the black, our cold feet slap wet on wind-chilled stones. I’ll always feel proud of how you navigated Japan. I watched in the bar as you made friends with ease while I played darts with a man I had no tools to understand. But once more back to Hakone with its galleries and gardens, and the sweet café where we watched the rain on our first day. When the train took us back I watched the tracks, forcing a lasting imprint on my eye as the cherry blossoms waved goodbye. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 75

The Antique Ashtray Mourning In Lockdown In Memory Of Nan, Doris Williams, November 1934 – May 2020 When that dread time came to swoop vulture-like through the rooms of you I knew where you would live from now. Within the sturdy hold of that dark-stained wooden jewellery box that I reached for so many times as a child, to wonder upon its rose-embossed mirrors and see myself in one, and you in the other. Perfectly you; nothing fancy, but strong. After you died, I looked inside the small drawer built for rings and shiny things to find it had long-since become an ashtray. You and your 60-year habit wrapped close in that velvet lining forever, where I’ll always keep you. 76 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Albany Road Mourning In Lockdown Yellow square slabs lacquered in warmth form a small patio. Their border is of tiny bursts of colour from seeds stored and scattered over years. The gentle hum of a plane cutting a streak of white stream through the blue is all that breaks the stillness. You no longer sit smoking in the sunlight, but you will always live among the roses. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 77

Graffiti On Ashby Castle Walls, August 2020 Tentatively Stepping Out After Lockdown Tracing a sanitised finger over letters carved in stone I feel the desperation surging up through centuries, the current carrying a longing to be seen to never be forgotten to live on to withstand the onslaught of time as these pockmarked walls have done; A yearning to not be so fragile that one flash of accident one well-meaning caress one careless breath would separate flesh from name. I feel an aching to remain. 78 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Sharing Memories Of Spurn New World Meets Old In Lockdown I watched the sea roll in across your eyes as you recalled some 60 years ago a trek out to that lighthouse every single Sunday morning. You asked me does the sea still look lonely? Does the lighthouse still wear its two-tone coat? and does the low-light still maintain through wind and rain a ceaseless watch despite its ruin? I tell you yes, though I expect those soil-shone waves were lonelier to you than I. You, a boy without a home. A young man surfing several sofas and playing both parents to other forgotten children. Then you smile and tell me of a day when parched with thirst you begged an old lady at her door for just one cool glass of water. Then on other Sundays she met you with home-made lemonade and welcome respite in the shade and I wish that I could thank her. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 79

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OLIVER BLISS (He/Him) I’ve recently moved with my partner and cat to start our new life together in Worcester. Rather than being a writer, instead I would say I’m a passionate reader and love anything creative. I was looking for my community and ended up discovering a lot more. The Standing Proud Writers’ Group came at just the right time for me. It has given me the opportunity to link with a caring bunch of people and discover new creative skills. The group has been incredibly supportive, nurturing and welcoming. It has become a highlight to the weekend. I have the pleasure of listening to different stories and experiences whilst having the opportunity experiment and share in a safe environment. This is really the beginning of a creative writing journey for me and I am so glad I gave it a go. It can be nerve wracking to try something new, even scarier to voice words out loud. What is wonderful about the group is you develop at your own pace and share as much as you want. So, if you’re a newbie like me and feel a sense of interest reading this, I hope it’s enough of a nudge to encourage you to join us and give it a go as well. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 81

Going Back Out Since Lockdown Please don’t judge me is all that I can say It’s been a while since I’ve come out to play Whilst on route home, a mandatory task I discover a new use of my mask I didn’t know how long the walk home was Desperately dashing into a bush Something inside was beginning to push After a catch up, the first since lockdown I got caught short as I walked through the town I scurried home bow legged feeling lame Brought a new meaning to the walk of shame 82 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Hope It can be a small, fragile thing It is elusive It can grow strikingly massive Pop up in surprise It can peek out unexpected It can bloom like dandelions And spread on a breeze Planted ideas can soon bare leaves Become blinding bright It can cut through like a diamond It can save someone trapped in plight It can fill a room It can hide in the slightest crack Fill up the hollow Or leak out on a needed spot It can make resolve Like a fired shot RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 83

Isolation I refuse to be isolated, It’s not for me It’s too much like; defeat. In the past, I have been isolated amongst the company of colleges, peers or even friends And at times, I was even stood directly in-front of them This time, I might be away from people but I choose not to feel isolated. This is my Home, This is my sanctuary. I have everything that I really need The basics of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs are all in place And I am loved and safe. So instead I choose to stretch in the sun, and feel the warm of the breeze I choose to read epic novels and explore their wild fantasies I choose to live in alternative realities, through remote controls, keyboards and screens I choose to connect with people, now on my terms I choose to cook for pleasure and not just necessity 84 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

I choose dedicating myself to working on things that nourish me, more than just my body I choose these things, because I’m lucky that I can. I choose these things because I know they are also a privilege. But I also choose these things because I believe This sanctuary, has really; set me free. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 85

The First Record I pulled apart the innards, laying the carcass on top of the stone. The machinery of life, flayed before me. An instinctual act; flesh consuming flesh. I am conscious of a connecting flow between a severed life. Torn from this creature’s body; becoming fuel for my own. Blood is pressed between palm and stone. Fingerprints identify me within the bloody pigmented print. My lifeline is a claimed, defined space. A fissure forcing blood to separate and stain the rocky surface. I line up bones from skull to tail. A connecting circle, surrounding my handprint. It becomes a testament, owning this history. 86 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Touch Starved I shook a man’s hand this morning. It caught me off guard Something so simple Has become taboo He had offered it out to me And it felt rude not to It was a goodbye gesture And I know he was being friendly and polite It almost appeared like an act of rebellion Saying ‘It’s ok, we’re be alright!’ Once I closed the door, I washed my hands I felt I was done with that But there is a niggling feeling Was that a thoughtless risk? Had I been too brisk? At the time, I actually said ‘Wow, a human handshake!’ A simple brush of contact But now would there be further impact? So now, this is a new normal We’re easing into a step change When we return to life will I have to consider every single exchange? RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 87

What It Was To Learn In A School You used to speak to the wind and enjoyed its caress You would race it through fields and feel led by it’s breeze You asked it where it had blown in from and who it had met You watched it dance around friends and jump under leaves Like children they toppled and changed; floated and weaved You made dens and imagined worlds of heroes and heroines Your sisters were your enemies, They could be besties or beasties and often blurred into something in between Your sanctuary was the calm of your mother’s heartbeat And the swell of your father’s belly; as he snored in the heat And when you pressed your ear against their skin, It sounded like wiggly worms, squirming within. You were taught to imagine Doctors and Nurses, Firemen and Police You were taught to play with clay in your hands and share them out; piece by piece They told you to imagine your first home So, you drew a mansion on a canal boat You added a pool, a library, a sweet factory and a bouncy castle on a float You wanted secret passageways and constellations painted overhead. They told you that you were an artist and that stuck in your head You were given a dare to ask the dinner lady in a plea If they had a condom to offer for free? And you were left wondering the purpose of putting that there? 88 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

As all the other kids just giggled on the stair You were told, condoms were shells, that go on a man’s dick And you questioned the purpose, of a shell on a prick It only seemed fitting to listen to the sea So, what on earth could its purpose, truly be? On non-school uniform day Katie brought in a piece of clothing That drew out words you had never heard before What was it now? Either ‘Slut’ or ‘Whore’ And although I forget the clothing, the bad feeling still remains Because the way teacher scolded Steve Secretly it made you want to know more About that weird thing she once wore. Suddenly Sarah Died when a car sped by; and tossed her from her bike into the sky. It was your first acknowledgement of death You laughed with Michael because you had a plastic coffin; So, you teased the girls with it instead. Then when her parents came in for the assembly They held an outside service. Everyone was quiet in the field, Some butterflies passed us by in the sun on the wind. Rachael wept and said that they had made a butterfly club earlier that year. So, you felt a pain you had never experienced before; Because you knew she could never feel another thing anymore. And to laugh at a plastic coffin, seemed a bit dim It was just hollow piece of tat, and a small cruel spat; So, you tossed it, in the bin RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 89

When we were getting ready for a play All our clothes came off that day Karl’s vest was dirty and his pants were grey They all knew he smelt a little bit So, everyone decided wordlessly that he didn’t fit The girls cringed and shied away And he looked like he didn’t want to stay Being velociraptors with Alex was fun You blew each other up with a gatling gun Michael said ’You’re an idiotic ear hole!’ And you thought that it must be true As he often appeared more intelligent than you It was fun racing as dogs, against Sid But you got sad at his home When they caught him sketching in his room alone Annie had two sisters, one of them died Suddenly Chloe was gone Both were too young, to know what was so wrong Chloe is your sister’s name You did not know why this was not the same Liam said he wants to die Emily cried and told him not to lie But it was only much later that you knew the truth behind why. Once Chloe was buried; Annie, mummy and daddy’s joy had died. The absolute truth of the end was a shock. It was something that silenced the whole lot. 90 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Emily never talked to them about it at all. So, when Liam was maudlin it ripped out her heart. Because a piece of her family had been severed apart. Steve hated the sounds that his new mother’s boyfriend made; In the shower as he washed his bits. He said it sounded wet and like something slapping. Your mother hated Katrina, because of what she said to you. But you forgot that, and enjoyed playing with her instead. In the meantime, you often hated Katrina’s mother Because you found her face really severe whenever she taught class. Whereas Katrina’s mother secretly hated Steve’s mother Because of the position she once caught them in in bed. Although she was frail her heart was massive. Gwen the Quaker, gave us lot of cake. It was a friendship that was cut far too soon. You always resented that other kids had Velcro shoes. You thought laces were a waste of time. When it became time to run You were glad to have that firm shape surrounding your feet. Then some kids struggled with tying laces by year six. So, then you felt thankful you had learnt that skill. Ivan was the year above and asked the teacher how to spell ‘Orange’. So, Katie laughed and it made your heart collapse, Because you weren’t really sure how to spell ‘Orange’ either. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 91

We all thought Simon Good, was actually; really bad; But it was only because his sister died. As leukaemia had torn her apart. So, every time his fist would rage He removed some sense of loss. James told you he had seen a film from his dad’s private collection. He wanted to kiss you. He said it was to make sure he could kiss a girl well. He said ‘Practice made perfect’, And that made sense to you. So, you gave it a go, It was nice but weird, to lay with guy. You heard the wind brush by With a howling cry. You turned your head away; And stared, as the brown began to set in on those fallen leaves. You settled together amongst the cemetery graves His hand was pressed between your lips. A barrier between you both, stopping you from actual kissing. Because that would be gay and not ok - Then accidentally something then clicked. Everyone laughed at Katherine She was a selective mute and still believed in Santa. It was a horrid way to learn about the lie, but you also kept quiet, Whilst you watched her silently cry. 92 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Then, all you could do is imagine This giant big school ahead Everyone said ‘No more tag; it’s just football instead.’ And as sad as that was at the time You were excited to finally, Grow up. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 93

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JAY ROSE ANA (She/Her) Jay is a transgender woman, and mum, living in Worcester. Her poetry focuses on her experiences transitioning from male to female as well as positive mental health. https://soundcloud.com/jayroseana RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 95

The Shock Down Anaesthesia. Go Home! Stay Safe! Love your family! There is no time to waste! Uncomprehending, so overwhelming, Give me a moment, just to make sense of it. Clear the building, do not return here! Go now, go now, Go! Run, run in fear! The world is ending! The end is near! Stock up on supplies! Keep your radio near. Stay in and save lives, do not touch anything! Invisible death! Safeguard every breath. Go out in panic, no time to plan it, Everything is cancelled, have you washed your hands? We are in frozen time, waiting on a sign. Death toll keeps rising, experts advising. The world is in lockdown, keep your head right down, I cannot take it in, a hug is a sin. How do we survive, will our world revive? Will it be the same? Have I shopped in shame? Keeping loved ones safe, will I make mistakes? The pressure is on, but the threat is not gone. Overwhelming loss, arguing the toss. Another one falls, backs against the walls. I cannot take it all, I cannot walk just crawl. Fearing for my kids, life has come to this. Outside. Dead-centred, cold eyes. Act like no surprise. Look into my eyes. Can you see my cries? Heart skipping a beat, when we are in the street. Get just what we need, be discrete, then retreat. 96 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Emotions increase, we need a release. Let us all get behind, brave people we find. Those that care for us, who are there for us. They risk their own lives, so we might survive. What do they ask for? Stay at home, save lives. Take care of yourselves, be well and be kind. If they can do that, then we can do this. The world is on the brink, we are its witness. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 97

The More We Change The world it changed, then it changed again. In March fear turned to panic, in April a cautious peace set in. Community carried us through, gave us strength, gave us hope. Staying at home, reduced the smog, are we starting to cope? Quiet streets, quiet beaches, the oceans can revive. Reconnecting with people that had been lost in our lives. Supporting each other as we lock down to survive. May resources were scarce, we could hardly go out. A weekly celebration, to clap and to shout. And then a darkness fell, it slipped in through the night. Now nothing is safe, peaceful protest turns to fright. Old ladies punched in faces. Police are kicked to the ground. Voices silenced, fear the streets. We are pushed to the precipice, The only way forward, may be down. I feel dismay, wheels spinning, just going round. The world in June feels confused and profound. It is hard to speak, to say what is on my mind. I do not even know what response I may find. Will I be punched in the face or kicked to the ground? When I cry for help will anyone care for my sound? I can only hope that when all is said and done, That all the work we put in, does not end up undone. 98 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

My Darkest Day The darkness sets in, who opened the door? We made it this far, not done, there is much more. What help can I give? What difference can I make? When all I can think, is, it is three AM and I am still wide awake. Sleep has gone for days, crept out late at night. Did not return, something is wrong, not quite right. Turn out the light, pull over the covers. Dreaming of times spent laughing with others. It is three in the afternoon, and I am still laid in bed. Worrying about tomorrow, my head fills with dread. Laughter is all gone, expired, laid to rest. All that remains, are these feelings of stress. Take another step, down the stairs of despair, I may take my chances, in the darkness, down there. Isolation is the cure, but it feels like my end. Everywhere I look, another dead-end. Each day that passes feels like a mountain to climb, Wondering if I have the strength or will I give up this time. Struggling for breath, I gently weep. I have no energy left, to hide the secrets I keep. But in the last hour, a new normal sets in. I’m starting to cope, a ray of hope, can begin. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 99

Freedom Lost We prevail amidst the lockdown, Staying at home, keeping our heads down. Looking up for shooting stars, Searching for hope from voices afar. When did it start, when did it begin? Everyone is confused, the world is in a spin. Can we go out or should we stay in? Shops start to close, patience wears thin. Daily exercise, news way of living. Essential shopping, new ways of giving. Numbers increasing, frustrations are rising. I sense frustration, a stir of uprising. Who is to blame? How much will this cost? Locked up at home, our freedom lost. Temperatures rising, the news is disguising. Do they think we are this dumb? Should we find this surprising? Cures in sight, but just out of reach, At home we provide, as parents, we teach. The minds of tomorrow are touched by sorrow, The cost of today is the price of tomorrow. 100 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS