My mother left me each night
With a gentle kiss on the forehead, and a request to sleep tight
She knew all too well I wasn’t sleeping anytime soon
Nights often blurred into day; breakfasts came close to breaching noon
Time was distorted, and my sanity hung by a thread
As I stared at the ceiling, laying in bed
She shut my bedroom door and left me to rest
Rest was the last thing I did, as I felt a heaviness in my chest
The walls in my room were closing in
I wondered if these circumstances were punishment for some sin
I was safe from one insidious virus but exposed to another
A silent killer that put me in a spot of bother
Loneliness had infected me, and I had grown symptomatic
Vulnerable and clingy, I was problematic
I felt myself roaming the sands of isolation
With my devices in hand, I traversed these sands, mind prone to idealization
The sand gave way beneath my feet,
As I seeked a soul or two to meet
My journey led me to a handful of tents
Anything would do for me, for my energy was spent
Each of them welcomed me, no questions asked
For the time I spent with them, my pain was masked
When they tended to the rest of their lives, I would bawl
As I feared loss. If only I’d offered them something, anything at all
I leaned on them like they were crutches for broken bones
I likely made them all grimace and groan
They were wonderful; they never let it show
Until it got way too much, and it was time for me to go
It’s been nearly two years, and I made it through the desert
I finally reached the green, after a lot of pain and effort
But some nights I think of the hosts and their tents
I know I’d been a manchild, but I hope they don’t hold resentment
Their company was the painkiller to temporarily suppress the infection
Preventing me from falling to its attrition
I hope they remember me more fondly than as a painstaking guest
I continue to adore them; they will always be the best
I miss them sometimes, and I cherish the selflessness
I live with the guilt and regret born out of my childishness
While I’m no mariner with an albatross around his neck
I wish I’d done better and kept myself in check
I wondered if I was punished for sin; but here I am now, a sinner
I hope to find redemption, even if it’s only a tiny glimmer
I desire to build my own tent, host nomads in need
While this won’t undo the past, it could let my soul breathe
As I do unto others what they did unto me
Anupras Mohapatra is a former opinion editor for The Daily Cardinal and currently serves on the Editorial Board. He is a senior double majoring in Computer Science and Journalism.