There Are No Days

A Poem

There are no days. There are no hours. There is no second hand ticking the circumference. There is no bedtime. There is no deadline. It’s almost as if there’s no more light.

The lack of light isn’t about the sunshine. It knows nothing about that which ails us. It shines on us to give us hope, but we don’t know where to schedule it because there is no time.

The days of the week are the weekend. Sunday is a Tuesday. They’re all the same. Blindly passing by while we stare out the window. Was this even a day if nothing happened?

There are no days. It’s one long month flowing into one very, very, long year. And it’s only April. Or are there even months? What can a calendar tell us right now?

I watch the sun rise. I watch the sun set. I brush my teeth twice. Night falls. I wake up to the same cycle. Nothing has changed outside my window.

Did you ever imagine we’d be here? When there are no days. No hours. No seconds. No slogan on a wall saying we have all the time in the world.

Because right now, time is irrelevant. A nice chart may give us hope, but it can’t give us back days. There are no days.

© Jonathan Greene 2020

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