By Ruth Kelsey
We hoped by now we’d all be done,
business as usual, calm restored,
all back to normal, having fun;
this is too much – we’re getting bored.
Business as usual, calm restored
like nothing much had happened here.
It’s all too much, we’re getting bored;
we want life as it was last year.
Nothing much is happening here;
time stands still as we just wait
to live our lives just like last year;
impatience breeds discord and hate.
Time stands still, we have to wait,
isolated, bored and sinking;
impatience breeds discord and hate,
some daren’t admit to what they’re thinking.
Isolated, bored and sinking,
expecting now we’d all be done;
we daren’t admit to what we’re thinking:
no more normal, no more fun.
Ruth lives in Yorkshire, UK and is a member of Otley Poets. She has had poems published in Check Hope Remains (125th & Midnight), Whirlagust (Yaffle Press), and various poetrymagazines. She recently came third in the 2020 Yaffle Prize.
Like many, I expected that after a few tough months the world would be returning to something resembling normality by now. We should have known when some politician or other suggested it’d all be over by Christmas. I also baulk at the term ‘new normal’, which somehow suggests our lives will never be the same again. Some days I just yearn for the world as it was before Coronavirus, imperfections and all; I wrote this poem – a Pantoum – on one such day.