By Acadia Kear
This poem is an expression of the frustration I felt at the beginning of the pandemic, shortly after Pitt announced that classes would be moving online after spring break in 2020. Earlier in the year, I’d met someone that I instantly clicked with and we spent a lot of time together during the first two months of the semester. We had been looking forward to hanging out again after the break, but then we suddenly found ourselves apart for five months instead of a week. Even when we did return to school in the fall, we only got to see each other a handful of times due to COVID restrictions. “Sudden Distance” is about reconciling with our forced separation and holding onto hope that things could someday go back to the way they were. Having something to look forward to when everything in the world seemed so dark made me feel like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Coronavirus turned all of our lives upside down, but it was also a reminder that we should never take anything for granted—especially the people that we care about.
Trapped inside, away from diseased air,
I can't escape this pain and the space in between
because I know that for me this all means
the complicated situation I had found myself in
before the line between hell and earth grew thin)
becomes far more complex with a sudden distance
between me and this boy who put up resistance,
til I wore him down and he finally gave in
to my charms and my wit (I knew I’d win
him over), and at last, I got what I wanted
before everything was so suddenly halted.
Pulled swiftly out of the shelter of his arms,
the ones that had kept me away from harm,
as the world grew dark and thousands died
of a terrifying virus that seems to hide
in every corner and behind every door,
and we can’t go anywhere anymore.
Life has changed in no time at all it seems,
and now I only see the boy in my dreams.
It feels trivial to care about something so small
when everything around us has slowed to a crawl.
I could use a hug from him now more than ever,
and would feel so much better if we were together,
especially when I’m scared to death
that someone I know might be next.
But even if he were here, would we be allowed to touch?
We’re told that close contact should be avoided as much
as possible and to continuously wash our hands,
a request that many people just don’t understand.
As frustrated as I am about this whole thing,
I know I can get through whatever it may bring,
even without a hand to hold, I know I’ll be alright
because as soon as it’s all over, we’ll finally reunite.
When I can feel his arms around me once again
I’ll unleash the smile that for months has been
hiding beneath a mask, waiting for a good enough
reason to emerge, after all of the ridiculous stuff
that’s muddled our lives, everything that’s gone wrong.
I’ll finally be happy once I’m back where I belong.
Acadia Kear is a senior English Writing major with a concentration in poetry and a Theatre Arts minor. She will graduate in December 2021.