| I blame the quarantine for my broken heart. The first two weeks were not so bad. I wrote music, poems, and finally had the chance to be creative. Then the third week hit and classes came back. Slinking out from under my bed came depression And his sidekick panic attacks. Deep sleep became a memory. I allowed my adamantine heart to bear the weight but not break. A call from a friend brought a knocked my stone heart and a crack appeared. I cried with another human being for the first time in years and I didn’t want anyone to put me together again. The crack widened as my distance from friends and family was realized more each day. Each call from mom where the laughter of my sister and brothers was carried on the wind widened the crack as it pierced deeper and deeper into the rock. Each zoom hangout, though comforting, served to remind me that it’s been weeks since I’ve felt any human contact. Yesterday I lost my job. I wondered how I would pay rent (my family came and saved the day) and my heart hit its limit. I cried all day today. At the madness of it all. But then my heart revealed the geode within. I cried and laughed that the birds were back as I walked to the store. The trees are in bloom, The sky bright blue and the frigid crisp air all reminding me that I was still drinking in life. The crystal center of my heart, now brought to light, refracted a living rainbow of this moment – terror and joy and sorrow all together. And I know when the world returns, that will stay. I blame the quarantine for that too. |
–Gregory Petershack, From San Antonio Texas originally
Studying for and MA in literary theory and pedagogy at Boston College