A first-person poem about how two years of pandemic isolation left the narrator feeling physically older and emotionally exhausted. Long friendships built on loyalty vanished into digital distance, while a technology-driven generation monitors lives through data instead of presence. The speaker grapples with feeling obsolete, though new friendships and tentative hope emerge.
Aged out. I didn't die. You don't notice until you do. As long as everyone around you is the same age, you remain young. COVID happens. 2 years of sleeping next to Netflix and coughing to Zoom work every morning. Suddenly, upon return to civilization, your back is pained. You gained weight. Your history and demons finally shrouded your light. You are awakened. You are older, weaker, defeated, tired. I don't have the technology, graphics, quickness, and Excel monitoring the lives and movements of all. I am old-fashioned. I build relationships. We have our codes. And ways to know where people are at. It was a sweeper, they said. Relationships formed and grounded for decades ended with COVID Years of connection and love disappeared just like that, as if a nightmare. The happy conversation, the beautiful smile, The cleanup person who saved always. He was an angel. He was always ready to lift your burden. No memory, no conversation, just an image on a Facebook page. Warning: not heartbreaking. Barely sleeping, we listened to the sirens and binging of bells, wondering who next we would lose. It was deadly. An opportunity arose, a spectacular moment at the most weakest time for humanity and all of us here. We needed each other. We needed to hug and ground each other. Impossible. The wheels of change were turning faster than the death. Like new generation, new opportunities, our lives and Deep Connection work history. I don't know about you, but it's still my time. We changed everything as if we were dreaming youth and the graphic intelligence was worthy more than your loyalty and commitment. Your pain was erased by cleaning a building and welcoming the new generation of young, hopeful, intentional beings. You could, and should, be replaced, I felt, if you didn't die already. A time when we yearned for what we knew was ripped from our very souls. Discarded we were, once savored and appreciated, useless we became. Looking for the frown, I found the mirror telling me My time has gone, grabbing to find the history and relationships that sustained me. I walk and see only imagery of where they stood. Their habits and movements haunt me daily. It is what the beauty of new relationships— and the extension of a better tomorrow. New friendships formed, innovation and growth hugged. But— where does my loyalty and love go?
