Used to be something we were sure of.
A plot. A plan.
Used to live in the diary
neatly pencilled in and full with jobs
and chores and the overwhelming sense of being sure.
That we’d be busy.
In and out the door.
We used to dread her.
With rigid frame and the rules laid out for us
our freedoms so constrained.
And then one day tomorrow changed.
In some ways, never came.
Boxes left unpencilled.
Our freedom unrestrained.
Except now nobody knows what even one box ahead might bring.
could be normal or as normal as could be or tomorrow could be
Hellfire through and through.
Tomorrow could be me and tomorrow could be you.
No longer can we check our diaries and feel the heavy weight of sure because
what is today might not be anymore.
And so for now we live by breath
by breath by breath and curl our fingers tight with hope
that one day,
will be ours again to understand in certainty,
Beautiful, and captures the times perfectly