2020 Vision

What will become of you, Year 2020?
Once we look back, will we succumb to cursing you,
or will we emerge from isolation and despair
a better, wiser human family? We used
to think your number meant a perfect vision,
predictions of prosperity and promise.

We’re deep into the year that will report
that nothing public was allowed to happen.
Postponements: weddings, concerts, even elections,
music un-made except in private rooms,
since breathing, singing unmasked together
became a risk too dangerous to take.

We’re living into a year of cancellations:
funerals held in silent graveside circles,
kisses blown against a blurring windshield.
We’re nearly half-way through lost expectations:
valedictorians, political debates,
opening nights on Broadway, first pitches.

We’re turning 2020 into screen shows,
touching each other through an ether-net
we must imagine and only half believe in.
We’re having parties where no guests appear,
except in glowing video screens. To hug,
to dance, to touch, to kiss can mean infection.

You came along and left us all blindsided,
trapped in your all-or-nothing dangerous game,
without a plan or blueprint, tearing off pages
from a calendar where each day seems the same,
where dire predictions spawn denial, despair,
and reckless leaders leave us undefended.

Will what we suffer clarify our focus?
Will loss and love birth us into new being?
What will become of us when you are gone?