twenty twenty

Twenty twenty.
The year we watched the daisies come up again and again
And wondered where our lives had gone as wandering clouds swept past where aeroplanes had been.
Rainbows flourished loud amid the quiet of the every day.
Reduced to every single second
Of
Every
Single
Day.

Over there statistics shrieked and sirens screamed.
Creeping fear moved in to inside rooms so vast they became our being.
Twenty twenty. The year isolation became so real you could touch it.
But not them.

Coping strategies stretched beyond.
Constant de connection struggling for any connection
Faces faintly faded in FaceTime frames,
masked by the fog of uncertainty that swirls and ticks on and on and on.

And yet.

Blossom turned to fruit that stained our lips and dripped sweet juice onto sun kissed skin.
The sun rose again and again.
The light always seeking, always searching to fill every wound.

Eyes, drunk on quiet moments watching silence, softened and learnt to smile.
Laughter pealed like bells reminding us it can. It does. It will.
Time paused.

Petals bloomed and faded.
The colours of the sky constantly changed.
Showing us what was always there.
And ourselves laid bare.

Summer days floated by different but the same.
Autumn coloured in each page with gold.
Then trees stripped off to give us light.

Twenty twenty. The year we learnt that daisies come up again and again.

Each day of the first lockdown I made a mindful mini film. To make sure I still saw the beauty in each day.

You can see them all here.