Twenty-twenty may seem so sad and grey,
but those who wail in pain, saying that
the year was a waste, only see its good erased.
Twenty-twenty imprisoned us. I know. Still stuck in our houses.
Our old ways out the window, and the new ones hammered in.
But twenty-twenty may still have some brightness in store,
burrowed under the headlines and the pain we all know.
For we have adapted well, and now with renewed hope for
the old ways once again.
But is that really all we take away? After all that we’ve been through?
To run back to comfort, to our old and safe place?
Or is it simply an attempt to escape, without admitting
that we have learned from something that has ruined “everything”?
Twenty-twenty, swiftly coming to an end,
we will miss you, I say. You have rewarded us with much.
You are a year of hope, too, for twenty-twenty