Disconnected

A Poem by PatrickPink

Lockdown and WFH can be incredibly isolating. This is how I ground myself

I am not myself today and
Honestly
Yesterday was the same

Like I slid
Thick gauze in behind my eyes
To cover the wounds
So nothing seeps through
To get inside my head

Like a hazed evening
On Brighton beach. Clouds
Make the horizon a shroud
Sealing me in soft
Webbed edges
An unwelcome cocoon
That keeps me separate
Feigning safety

Static shock drawn out over hours
White noise, present and distracting
Keeps the screen unfocused
My fingers tapping
Voices fade after I answer
Lost records in a collection
I can't reach

It's quiet here
But I'm hearing finally
For the first time today
There are gulls, and they're obnoxious
But unbearably present
Four lads run in to the ocean
It's February and their shouts
Disturb the surface
It helps me feel the cold in my fingers
The gentle press of pebbles
On my thigh
I smell salt and
Sand and
Smoke

I am reminded that I am here
That each breath I take
Changes the world around me
That even when I can't feel it
I just need to go outside again
To remember I'm connected