Ode to Quarantine Here, among the shelter of my youth, a four-walled hideaway filled with time capsules of long- held memories, a place that guards us from the outside world. Surrounded by headlines from glowing television screens, wearisome faces of family members, blue gloves and thick masks— physical barriers, the absence of touch. Untorn ticket stubs and graduation caps collecting dust. Only you: the creeping, unfathomable unknown. A colorless phantom, reining terror in the night. Nothing tangible to hold and hate, but deadly enough to fear and loathe. Scary, that only you could unite an entire globe under a common enemy. The people in the back become the most vulnerable. We learn not all heroes wear capes; sometimes they don scrubs and carry blood bags. Some even deliver our groceries and wash the tiles. Work that is essential, Dead quiet, the streets are. Stonecutters have more orders to fulfill. You, prompting war that is conquered without weapons. We hold hands over our screens, summoning hope in the time of our grief. --Juliana