To the people at the front line,
This is a letter for you...
'The world rains for those on the battlefield, and the people rain for the world'
To the people fighting endlessly on the front line,
This Pandemic is a spitting, ablaze ravenous fire, a flurry which spreads from tree to tree, person to person.
I can't imagine what it is like to be at the front line of the Battlefield, with steamed face masks ,raw fleshy hands, eyes droopy, lips cracked and dry from long hours spent slowly fading away. To hear the death toll rise, and to desperately hold onto a sliver of hope.
I think of you, the Key workers, and my heart pangs witlessly, it frays at the edges with melancholy. Some of you may be drowning in the waters, the kind which chill your bones and crinkle fingers. The navy wild sea might seem so deep.
I have been under the scarce blankets of Darkness, I have felt the gnawing sadness and fear. And all while there is no way that I will be able to comprehend the fear that you might be feeling. I can and will sympathise and be grateful for all that you have done.
You have saved so many lives, so many people who will now live longer because of your many sacrifices. And I know that with each patient, each student and each individual it may feel as if a piece of your already crumpled heart is being ripped away.
Before the world had fallen, I'm sure that you might have felt forgotten. Tossed to the side by the people, but I wish for you to know, that you were never discarded by us.
You were the reason for a smile on a dying cancer patient's face, the delivery of a Saturday afternoon meal for a birthday, the justice of a horrendous murder, the kind which makes a victims life lighter, the laughter coming from a woman in a care home...
You are still the reason for smiles, laughter and hope.
Sometimes as humans we forget how much we are worth, our brains become blinded by limiting beliefs and negative intrusive thoughts, but you are worth more than you know.
You are all the flickering stars in the dark velvety night sky, you are the millions of willowy flowers.
As a child my thigh bone fractured, it sliced into one of my main arteries, flooding the inside of my skin with crimson. But you were there, with kind eyes and tired smiles. Creased faces and aching fingers, made from patching up wounds and lifting stretchers.
Whilst I slipped in and out of consciousness on the ambulance, you consoled me. With honey dipped words and wispy voices. I prayed to whoever was listening 'please don't let me die' and you lifted me from the burning spitting flames.
If it wasn't for key workers, I wouldn't be here today, as wouldn't many others. And whilst you may feel insignificant, as if you don't matter.
Know that in fact you do.
People care, we care.
And although I won't be able to understand the kind of ache you must be feeling, I care too.
As a gift from me to you, I have created a playlist of songs which show that we care and that you are not alone.
I thank the people who care, the care workers. Those who work tirelessly through dusk and dawn, those who have bruised, raw hands, shattered faces and thin smiles.
And I hope that my words will release some of the weight on your shoulders, even if these words release a small thin wisp of the weight.
I thank you for being there, for being present and for showing up at the front line day in and day out. I thank you for making massive sacrifices.
I thank you all.