in times of a pandemic (from the archive series)

melting one into the other... my days are insignificantly and unforgivably inseparable. within the folding of this year, my heart stumbled with reflections. struggling to make sense of meanings. instead. i found a distance between faith and persistence. between confusion and resolve. between grieving and acceptance.

powerless in breath. i woke up one night to weeping sounds of my heart mourning missed chances. of companionships. of happiness. of love.

i was hurting for what is no longer within my reach.for an aloneness that often feels like a sentence than a choice.
for a future that feels incomprehensible with derailed and cancelled plans. for the happiness that appears only in passing flickers.

within this season. sadness overtook a space of emptiness. one that is often chased away with busyness and distractions. my cries were ones of longing. for hope. for love. for an embrace away from the darkness of a December moving as a ruthless digger. uncovering traps of insincerity; behind all the ‘fine’ and ‘okays’ is a different story. behind the stilled days is a fear of life never changing, or perhaps quickly morphing in a haste outside of my ability to adapt to it.

healing begins at a point of honesty. this year's trials were always in closing that distance; between pain and expression. telling myself that i am okay, when i'm really not. is chipping away pieces of trust, in my word, as well as others'. i keep uttering prayers for kindness to guide me. may this isolation never exhaust my ability to believe in the goodness of life's many offers.

forgiving the seasons. as i see it. is in appreciating the complexities of cycles. for fullness must indeed run empty. love will one day meet loss. and joy needs to know grief to grow abundantly. i know. for this isolation I feel, there is a silver lining. in strengthening my belief in securing a future strength. in a resilient self. unchallenged by difficult fates or circumstances. after darkness there is a sobering clarity. there is a grounding hope for better seasons to come.

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