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