Still Marching

By Shea Campanella ‘24

The calendar fell off my wall

One day in February

And now it sticks to nothing

So I try to keep dates on my phone.

It feels like I’ve been walking in a void

For ages.

It’s supposed to be up by two this month

But in some ways I am still 17.

We’re reaching a year

In these 2 weeks.

When do we mourn who we were

If the decay was over time?

And how are we to celebrate

What was good that came from depths?

I don’t know about a party.

I am exhausted.

I am still marching.