Hopes and Dreams.

The food on which the human spirit flourishes.

Is it any wonder then, in a time of deep despair;
a time of crushed opportunities and postponed plans

That even the spirits of those untouched by the plague,
they too are bruised if not broken
Or simply exhausted from the overwhelming effort of “holding it together”

That we have not, as one, returned from summer holidays
renewed, refreshed and reinvigorated
But rather with that lingering loss of the unfulfilled hope of being together

With the sense that the holiday was halfhearted, incomplete
made so by the gaps, the empty seats of those not with us
those stuck, and “holding it together” also, in other parts of the world
living under more of a cloud that we, the lucky ones

Life goes on (for the lucky ones, the careful ones, the ones that heed harsh warnings)
Family events, previously worthy of celebration (and not inconsiderable airmiles)
get on with it, without us

For much as we put our hopes on hold, and dream our unfulfilled dreams
yet we know that life itself cannot be put on hold
we must get on with it, and to do that we must hide our hurt
hold on to our hopes (but not too optimistically, and certainly without certainty)
and continue to dream our dreams

Because without them, our spirit will truly be crushed
Crushed under the weight of the expectation of fortitude
and the pretense of getting on with “life as normal”.