The clock and I

This week I took part in the Loneliness Lock-In challenge, which aims to raise awareness of the massive issue of social isolation and loneliness, whilst also raising funds for Linking Lives, an initiative which supports socially isolated older people by arranging for volunteers to visit on a regular basis.  The Loneliness Lock-In entailed spending 24 consecutive hours in ‘isolation’ at home, having no access to electronic devices, including mobile phones and wi-fi.

There were a few positives to come out of the experience.  For example, I had a bath for the first time in about 10 years!  It was one way of passing the time, although how easy it would have been if I had been older and less mobile is a moot point.  I also had time to do a spot of reading. Overall, though, I found the experience more difficult than I had imagined.  Normally I am fairly comfortable spending time on my own, but to go a whole day with no human interaction, no conversation, not even seeing a human face in person, and feeling so cut off from the outside world, was, at times, rather uncomfortable.  I really feel for those for whom that experience is an ongoing fact of life.

I decided to try and write about my experience in the form of a poem.  I claim no artistic merit, but in it I have tried to reflect both something of my own experience of the Loneliness Lock-In, and my imagination of what this might be like in an ongoing basis.

The clock and I

Another day begins – what will it bring?

Same old, same old, no doubt.

I slowly rise, get dressed, make breakfast,

Tea with toast and marmalade –

Traditions are some comfort.

Breakfast over, I sit and wait –

For what? I wonder.

The old clock seems loud today –

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The hands are moving, but O, so slowly

Tempus certainly fugits not today!

Another day, another day,

Just like yesterday and the day before.

I dream, just for a moment,

Of days gone by –

A house full of noise, chatter, laughter,

Even arguments at times.

Those really were the days.

But they’ve long gone,

A faded memory.

The days are silent now (if you ignore the clock),

No highlights, no conversations, no purpose?

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

“What about me?” my friend, the telly, asks,

“I keep you entertained, don’t I?”

Yes, there is some truth in that,

But even your attractions are less strong,

And when I watch, I often fall asleep.

Suddenly I hear the door – a caller?

But no, it is the letter box.

A letter from a friend?

Eagerly I rise to see,

But only disappointment greets me:

Some junk mail and a bill.

What happened to the days when friends wrote letters?

Even such a small thing would bring joy.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Half way through the morning – is that all?

A coffee and a biscuit – comfort food.

Homes Under the Hammer, but even

Dion’s jokes fall flat today.

Roll on lunchtime; I sit and wait

And as I sit, immobile, a chill comes over me.

A dull, grey, cold autumnal day outside,

And maybe inside, too.

Lunch over, the afternoon ahead.

A silence so profound around me and within;

They say that it is golden

But now it seems so tarnished.

I give thanks even for tick-tock.

‘Cooped up’ – an apt description of me now.

Perhaps I ought to venture out,

But what to say to passing strangers?

I’ve lost the art of casual conversation.

And would these old and weary legs

Still carry me from A to B and back?

And so I stay, and sit, and wait

As time grinds slowly on.

“They also serve who only sit and wait”

How can I serve? I ponder in my mind.

I cannot see a purpose for me now.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Yet God is here, I often feel him near me.

I’ve known his loving presence through the years

And I have loved and served him as I could.

What is the way of service for me now?

Yes, I can pray, and do,

It comforts me to know prayer makes a difference.

I talk to God and he to me,

Yet still I crave some audible conversation.

And there are times I ask that God

Would take me to himself.

I feel my earthly course is run

And yearn to be in heaven,

Where pain and tears and loneliness will cease.

I wait his call, and so the day goes on.

Patience is my calling, but it’s hard.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The phone!  The phone!

My heart leaps in anticipation.

A friend? A relative? A conversation!

“Hello, this is your internet service provider...”

And with those words, frustration fills my soul.

A happy chat would make my day,

But nuisance calls just leave me feeling empty.

There was a time I was an avid reader

And still I try,

Though concentration is elusive

And my eyesight is not what it was.

I soon grow drowsy,

But try to keep the sleep at bay,

Or I would lie awake through the long night.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Not all is doom and gloom, of course,

For many times my mind drifts back

To happy days,

And I give thanks to God

For all that I’ve lived through,

And precious memories of life and love.

For I’ve been blessed in many ways

And I recall a song my mother used to sing,

Which urged us, “Count your blessing”

And I do.

Memories – treasured

And yet a source of pain, for they are from the past

And I live in the here and now.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

And so the darkness falls outside,

Another day alone, me and the ticking clock.

No human conversation, no touch, no smile, no face to see.

It’s early evening, still, but I feel tired

And not a little sad.

I’ll go to bed and hope and pray

Tomorrow will be better, we shall see.

Steve Clark 25.10.19

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