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By Sydney Finley
In the year 2020, many things have kept me from slowing down. The wheels and gears in my brain never stop turning, and I find it difficult to just stop thinking for a few moments. Some days, I take pride in this; I work myself until the words on my computer screen look like alphabet soup. Other days, I am forcing myself to decompress and relax, even if it’s just for a few minutes. (I used to go to the on-campus Chick-Fil-A to grab an overpriced cookies and cream milkshake). It’s moments like those that prompt me to reflect on my time at the University thus far; however, the growing list of to-do’s and homework assignments quickly snap me back to my personal reality (notice that I said my personal reality). Considering the current state of the nation throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, however, I recently made the executive decision to begin the process of deconstructing and rebuilding my outlook on academics and my personal “work schedule.” This process is absolutely a work in progress, but I find myself making improvements each day.
With all of the “extra” time that I have had on my hands recently, I have found myself going through documents and essays that I’ve written in the past. Among the extensive list of old documents that have been saved to my computer, a Word file titled “Conceit poem AP Lang” grabbed my attention. I quickly remembered the short-lived period of time in which I desperately wanted to become a “renowned” poet, as well as the many other terrible poems that I had written that same year. Never wanting to turn down a good laugh, I scrolled over and double-clicked. The poem below is what I found, and I definitely was not expecting it:
The dark depth of the ocean closely resembles fear.
It quietly rushes toward me as a lay there, completely naive and unaware of the fact that no one can save me from what will later ensue.
It slowly rises and falls against the length of my legs, leaving wet and salty tears, my muscles tightening like a vice as the frigid water pools.
As it advances to my spine, I become winded, losing the ability to inhale, to exhale.
My thoughts suddenly exit, and my body becomes numb.
It is now up to my shoulders and I can hardly move; I can see my distorted reflection across the surface. I also see myself disappear as the waves foam away.
Before I can comprehend what is happening, I am covered in thick black ink, its viscous strength silencing my pleas.
Once again I have gone under, I have been forced into the vast ocean of fear that I can never escape.
I am drowning.
I urge you to use this poem as an opportunity to reflect on the current COVID-19 crisis and those who have and continue to be impacted by it. Having written this poem over a year ago, I never thought that it would be as relevant as it is to today. Whether you are a part of the Class of 2020, a family member or loved one of a healthcare employee, a healthcare worker yourself, or are simply struggling with the current adjustment to “social-distancing,” please know that this poem is for you.
While reflecting on the current state of our nation, I, like many others, have realized the vast sense of uncertainty and fear that has unified us as a people. No one knows how or when this situation will end, and we definitely don’t know whether life will return to normal once it does. Regardless of race, ethnicity, gender identity, age, and so one, we all are in the position to empathize with each other.
Give back to your communities in whatever ways you can (while practicing social-distancing and other health precautions, of course), call that old friend that you haven’t seen in a while, check up on your grandparents and extended family members (you know, the one that popped into your head when you read this :)), and most importantly, spend time with the ones you are quarantining with.
This pandemic has halted the bustling communities that we were once surrounded by, and has turned all of our worlds upside down. Hopefully, we are able to step out of this pandemic and resume life as it was before. But, I think it would be a shame to take that for granted. I encourage you to take each day as an opportunity to learn something new about something. Try to do/find little things that make you happy. Be thankful for what you have in this moment. Think about those who may not be as blessed. Uplift those that are around you. Don’t forget to uplift yourself in the process. Remember that it is okay to not be “over-productive” during this time. On the other hand, if working diligently (from home) makes you happy, then go for it. Just remember to take this time as a chance to b r e a t h e, reflect, and cope in whatever way is most beneficial for you.
Sydney Finley, of Louisville, Ky., is a member of the McConnell Scholar Class of 2023. She is studying political science and biology at the University of Louisville.