Locked away, the man sat with only his thoughts.
He ate from the cans he’d packed away, counting down–each bite, each number from the label.
The water he’d rationed spilled to the floor in his fit of anger.
A candle–dimming, much like his soul–burned away in the corner of his space….
He spoke to the angels that would visit him.
They spoke in ways not recognized.
Surrounded with his few belongings, he ate from the last can.
He laid down to rest, as the angels stood near.
Some people are locked away in spaces during this time of fear. They are anticipating the worst, consumed with unease, and not sure of their outcome. Unfortunately, some are alone. Some are isolated with only their thoughts to keep them company.
The poem is a reflection of the way my own thoughts can carry me into the dark spaces–places where there is an unexplained doom that feels like the end. A place where the days are numbered. During my time in therapy, the number one thing I was encouraged to do was not spend time in isolation. Within this current time of fear from a virus, that is exactly what we are all encouraged to do.
Folks, count your blessings. Please understand that some–even when there is no threat from a virus–struggle with mental maladies that inflict fear everyday. There are people who are alone–sometimes contemplating suicide, dimming spiritually from the unknowns, and often times believing there is no way out of their seclusion.
I encourage you to reach out to someone who is alone. You may be the only hope they have. Love your neighbors–they need love, as we all do.