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in their own words: 'my bones are so heavy with boredom'
tegan smallwood uses to poetry to communicate all that's been lost because of the pandemic.
jun 27 2021
2 minute read
creative writing student tegan smallwood on pandemic life. getty
we asked creative writing students at toronto’s rosedale heights school of the arts to tell us what it’s been like living through a global pandemic and life as a teen. these stories and poetry come together to paint a stunning picture of darkness, fear and loss, but each, in its own way, also shine with hope, resilience and optimism for not only today, but also the future.
i have nothing but you, my precious enemy
everyday is the same; so i will write until my knuckles bleed.
that way, even if it is only a few moments, i will be far away from these four walls.
my bones are so heavy with boredom, my hair unruly with anticipation.
yearning for a time before or a time past this.
i wonder if the sidewalks miss us.
miss hearing our secrets, feeling our jumps and skips.
the stranger in the mirror tells me this moment will pass — but it is hard to believe someone you do not recognize.
i try to look on the bright side but the tree in my yard keeps the sunlight far away.
so i sit,
unable to believe my own thoughts and unable to believe others.
your face has changed and i can’t remember my locker combination.
the seasons have fallen through my fingers.
my hair is longer and my baby brother is taller.
as the world flies past my window, i wave goodbye.
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my mother asks me ‘why,’ with tear-stained cheeks.
why do clothes drape over my body like the grim reaper?
why do i wash down meals with a glass of tears?
why can’t i just swallow?
control, i tell her.
it is small, but it is mine.
my brittle fingernails, my tired eyes, my hatred. all mine.
the sun will encourage me, fill me with hope.
he tells me i am worth more than a life in which i am barely alive.
that one day i will walk down a winter beach with my lover’s hand.
the crisp air will pinch my cheeks and remind me that i am human.
but, the moon seduces me.
she plays my weakness against me and i oblige each and every time.
i am restless,
i am unforgiving,
i am bitter.
my blood boils and i crave to be eccentric.
to run down streets at dusk. pass bottles around at twilight. kiss him at midnight.
perhaps i will paint my walls yellow, eat off porcelain plates, wash my hair with pomegranate juice;
anything to smile a crooked smile one more time.
tegan smallwood is a student at toronto’s rosedale heights school of the arts.
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