Hey readers. It seems that every day there is something more to consider with the coming weeks. I want to stop and be serious in this week's piece. While I've talked about how I've been handling COVID-19 and the quarantine that has come with it, I need to talk about who doesn't feel safe. Who can't speak up and express themselves. The women, children, men (yes, them included) who are facing abuse and many other terrors that everyone can't see. I want to be extremely clear: absolutely ZERO of what I say about my experience or thoughts during quarantine is to be the mirror image of reality and what other individuals have to face. I, along with anyone else, have ZERO idea what it is like for people who have to suffer at home rather than be freed by what gives them passion. Therefore, I wrote this poem with this in mind. That was a part of my message during this pandemic: be kind. You don't know what someone else has to endure daily. If you or someone else close to you is being abused, please call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or visit https://www.thehotline.org/contact/. I love you.

Art helps, but they don't see

What darkness awaits me

Writing is an escape, but they don't know

What strains I have to behold

My name isn't the same

Neither are the shoes

No, the isolation is not a "gift"

It's a curse that sits, solid and stacked

If it's a "gift," I'll gladly give it back

What they don't see is everything

And because they can't see, doesn't mean it's not happening

I want to feel the sun

And not worry about the shadows

I want to touch the paints

And not worry about it fading away

I just want you to understand

That being at home doesn't mean it's great

My words are valid

My existence matters

Please be aware that

There are struggles

Yes, it's true

I hold onto brighter days

And whatever gets me through

One day, I hope to see the positive side

Just like you