The Lost Year
A poem by Eleanore Dykes (written in 2020)
In this lost year, who knew that we would text each other
about our Carole Baskin conspiracy theories
spend less face time and more FaceTime?
Who knew that we would make offices
out of living room couches and kitchen tables
become obsessed with tie-dye and baking bread
find solidarity in our solitude?
Who could have ever known how much everything would change?
It was just headlines at first, outbreaks in China, Italy, France
one confirmed case, two, three, six, twelve
Now there are over 50 million cases around the world
over one million dead
and counting
In this lost year of quarantine and COVID-19
where weddings, graduations, baby showers and birthday parties
have been cancelled or put on hold
In this lost year, where time has seemed to stop in its tracks
dividing our lives into before and after
but still, somehow — inevitably, defiantly — marching onward
days passing, blurring into one
towards the new year, the unknown, better things
shimmering like the first light of dawn on the horizon
this we hope, we need to have hope
In this lost year, where it feels like we have done nothing
and yet we have survived
this is enough, this is everything
In this lost year, who knew that we would have found
how utterly indomitable the human spirit really is?
About the Poet
Eleanore is a twenty-something currently living in Chicago where she works in the legal field by day, and as an aspiring poet and author by night. Her freelance work has been published on Thought Catalog and Femme Next Door. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, writing, travel, and listening to podcasts on lore and mythology.
