In my worlds

Of words

They don’t wear masks.

They wear cloaks and

Shining armor.

In my worlds

Of words

There’s no six-foot wall,

But spaceships

Travelling farther.

In my worlds

Of words

COVID

Does not exist.

In my worlds

Of words

Dragons exist,

Fairies exist,

Magic, time travel,

Goblins exist,

Not to mention the

Basilisk.

But in my worlds

Of words

Our pandemic

Makes its exit.

In my worlds

Of words

I take refuge

From our world

Of hurt.

Weave a world

With ink and

Strings

To keep me safe

From fearful

Things.

In my worlds

Of words

I hide from

What is

Real.

In my worlds

Of words

It may be nice

To have somebody

On my side.

Control

When here,

Control’s a dream

Of ages past,

Of 2019.

But in my worlds

Of words

Nothing is

Real.

The world may hurt

And worlds of words

May be preferred,

But in our world,

Our lives are

Real.

And to leave the words,

To face the world,

Is to start to

Heal.

This has been an immensely difficult year for all of us, and I spent a lot of my time throughout it in fiction, whether that was writing it, reading it, or watching movies. I watched a ridiculous amount of movies. In the process of writing this poem, I started out wanting to write basically about how nice fiction is and the joy writing brings me, but as I got farther in it, I realized that it wasn’t a good theme. Yes, I love books and movies, and it’s not like that’s ever going to change, but I can’t let that get to the point where I’m using them as a tool to shut out the world and ignore what’s really going on. I have a tendency to do this– burying my problems and pretending they don’t exist. I just keep chugging along, paint on a cheerful smile, and, when people ask me how I am, answer some form of “I’m doing well, thanks,” even if I’m doing anything but well. It works for a while, but it isn’t a healthy form of coping, and I know that. It’s just hard to face the world when everything seems to be erupting in acidic fiery tongues that want to choke every drop of life out of you. So, instead, the poem became a poem about reality, and about hiding from reality. It was a necessary thing for me to address within myself, and it helped me make the decision to try to stay more grounded in reality, even if that means processing things I’d really rather ignore. It means that, before I go drown my sorrows in another Disney marathon, I need to sit down with myself, open up that box I’ve been avoiding, and take some time flipping through it. Yeah, I’d rather sing terribly with Moana, and yeah, that box will probably make me cry, but it’s something that needs to happen. Something that needs to happen for a lot of us, I think.