A hope I will defend

I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a little past 6 am, I had just woken up.

I remember sitting at the edge of my bed wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt for pajamas, and a heart-shaped locket my fiance gave me.

Why do we live like this?

Was my usual contemplation whenever I was required to wake early

It was February

We had survived the slow excruciatingly uneventful month of January

And was heading towards lovers domain at full tilt

Convincing myself to stand up and walk towards my bedroom door

I paused.

I knew what awaited me as soon as I stepped out of my room

Responsibility. Responsibility to pay the bills, go to work and be a pleasant person.

I wanted nothing more than to turn around and slip back between the sheets and forget everything I had to do that day.

That was two years ago.

The world was ending. Every news channel was addressing the virus that had come to our country. People were getting sick, disappearing, people were dying. Schools were closing, children being sent home praying to God they were not infected.

Businesses were being closed, sending all their employees home. Either temporarily or for good.

Cities turned to ghost towns. Traveling was banned. Airports and train stations lay to waste.

Everybody locked themselves in and the world out.

You kept your circle small, with only a few close friends and your family. Only the people you trusted. You communicate only through technology. You can't see each other in person for fear of spreading the virus.

Only strangers were outside. If you went to the outside you have to cover yourself with a face covering. To protect against the virus, or so you hoped.

You only went to the outside to get supplies. Children would stay home and the parents would go. They had to. They have to feed their children.

Praying you were lucky enough to find decent supplies and make it home before somebody, perhaps another desperate mother or father, tried to steal them from you.

By any means necessary

Every restaurant, warehouse, or grocery store was pillaged. Empty.

Broken windows and glass were everywhere. Vegetation and foliage had grown, covering most cars and buildings.

How things have changed

Once the rarety of home gardens across the country. Now an absolute necessity to survive. Gardens full of potatoes, carrots, beets, and radishes. All the vegetables that can grow underground. Anything to help prevent you from going outside.

The air. Once full of sweet aromas of fresh baked goods, full of the sound of laughter and endless chatter. The gentle breeze that kissed your face and touched your hair is dead.

It's quiet. No children's laughter

No sounds of footsteps dancing on the pavement

The cool, soft touch the breeze would bring. That once made you close your eyes and take you back to a fond memory.

Now carries a solemn song.

It's the song of the broken.

The song of the people clinging to the smallest piece of hope they can find. A song that can be heard across the country

From colony to colony

The silent sun that rises

overlooks our desolate world

Its light then exposes

our story thus unfurled.

A time of peace and plenty

A time before the spread

Before the streets were empty

A time that's long been dead.

I love you, dearest family

I'll love you till the end

To the end of this calamity

A hope I will defend

A sickness came

The darkness spread

Hope devoured in pain

All light was gone

Thus became the dawn

Of fear and hopeless dread

We do not know

we can not tell

how long we'll live below

how long we'll live in darkness

the light we've had to forego

I miss the warmth of sunlight

I miss the autumn breeze

I miss the starlit night

The world turning with ease

I love you, dearest family

I'll love you till the end

To the end of this calamity

A hope I will defend

Hope, a hope I will defend

The nights are quiet now, not the sound of passing cars or distant parties.

Just the sound of a fire cracking and the whisper of two parents as they look down on their newborn daughter.

Reaching down, the father gently lifts her out of her cradle.

I walk over and gently lay an object on my daughter's chest.

The object was a locket. A heart-shaped locket that her father had given me as a wedding present. Inside was a photograph. A photograph of rolling hills with a blue sky. A perfect scene.

A scene I pray to God that my daughter will see one day. Not in a photograph, but person. Being able to feel the breeze softly kissing her face

To hear the sound of laughter and to smell the fragrances so harmoniously complementing each other and taking you to a state of pure bliss and peace.

To be able to breathe. Breathe the clean air with no covering.

To live.

To live with no fear of the virus.

A hope I will defend