I think one of the reasons things feel so disorientating right now is that all the big things and the small things have become muddled up. Our priorities have changed, our perspective. And I want to remember how that felt, on the other side. So I tried to write it down, and it turned into a poem. 


When big and small switched
 
When the world stayed still, holding its breath or trying to catch it,
big and small got all - mixed up, switched, 
until we couldn’t tell which one was which, 
any more.
 
Something so small you couldn't see it - a dot on a dot on a pin -
stopped the big, wide world turning round.
But it turned out the world, after all, 
was so small 
we breathed down each other’s necks -
and we coughed. 
 
But as small as it was, as soft as it started, it was still too big
and too hard for us to see and care 
what happened, over there,
to those others that were so far away they LOOKED small -
so we watched them fall and felt safe and stayed free.
And then the Others were us, 
were we. 
 
And our own worlds got small, shrunk to a few rooms, 
a shop once a week, a walk.
And we could talk - but not face to face 
and it turns out the case 
was it was never cheap at all - as we recalled our big sprawling lives 
now halved, and marvelled at connections and interactions 
and how much touch meant, 
when we were starved of it. 
When it went.
 
And we saw the numbers, small news at first 
burst free of that vague page and get big, fast,
and tragedy was vast and small together overlaid
as tears became a cascading ocean and thousands become one,
the biggest number there is, in the end.
Our mum. Our brother. Our grandad. 
Our friend. 
 
And worries were now big and small scrambled
a picasso view through fly's eyes - so new we were dizzy, 
as all the angles on our life changed, 
ranging from small to big and back -
Will I get sick? Will she? Do the kids need a snack? 
Can I pay the bills this month? What’s for tea?
Is it just me that’s not coping well?
Will it ever be normal 
again?
 
And no one could tell us if or how or when, 
as we scrolled big scary news on small screens
and we leaned on the people whose jobs were now big - or always had been - 
who drove and delivered, and fed us and held our hands, as we died. 
And we came to understand that big heroes didn’t wear capes 
but they wear did masks. And they TRIED. 
And that was the biggest and smallest superpower - 
the first in the world, 
and the last. 
 
So we tried too, and as we drew together 
big differences seemed smaller, 
and small kindnesses meant big things -
because our hearts weren’t clipped, it was only our wings 
that couldn’t stretch. 
And the wretched big things that had seemed so important, weren’t, 
and we learnt that small things mattered, more than we knew -
were the glue that stopped us falling apart. 
Like pubs, and parks, and hugs when we meet
and friends, and plans, and days out, and nights,
live bands and crowds and shops and treats
and pasta, and loo roll, feeling safe - in control 
of our own lives. 
 
When big and small switched, the world stalled
until our eyes adjusted and we made a call
on which was which, now.
On how small things were big, looming tall
and how the big things seemed silly 
and small.
 When big and small switched
 
When the world stayed still, holding its breath or trying to catch it,
big and small got all - mixed up, switched, 
until we couldn’t tell which one was which, 
any more.
 
Something so small you couldn't see it - a dot on a dot on a pin -
stopped the big, wide world turning round.
But it turned out the world, after all, 
was so small 
we breathed down each other’s necks -
and we coughed. 
 
But as small as it was, as soft as it started, it was still too big
and too hard for us to see and care 
what happened, over there,
to those others that were so far away they LOOKED small -
so we watched them fall and felt safe and stayed free.
And then the Others were us, 
were we. 
 
And our own worlds got small, shrunk to a few rooms, 
a shop once a week, a walk.
And we could talk - but not face to face 
and it turns out the case 
was it was never cheap at all - as we recalled our big sprawling lives 
now halved, and marvelled at connections and interactions 
and how much touch meant, 
when we were starved of it. 
When it went.
 
And we saw the numbers, small news at first 
burst free of that vague page and get big, fast,
and tragedy was vast and small together overlaid
as tears became a cascading ocean and thousands become one,
the biggest number there is, in the end.
Our mum. Our brother. Our grandad. 
Our friend. 
 
And worries were now big and small scrambled
a picasso view through fly's eyes - so new we were dizzy, 
as all the angles on our life changed, 
ranging from small to big and back -
Will I get sick? Will she? Do the kids need a snack? 
Can I pay the bills this month? What’s for tea?
Is it just me that’s not coping well?
Will it ever be normal 
again?
 
And no one could tell us if or how or when, 
as we scrolled big scary news on small screens
and we leaned on the people whose jobs were now big - or always had been - 
who drove and delivered, and fed us and held our hands, as we died. 
And we came to understand that big heroes didn’t wear capes 
but they wear did masks. And they TRIED. 
And that was the biggest and smallest superpower - 
the first in the world, 
and the last. 
 
So we tried too, and as we drew together 
big differences seemed smaller, 
and small kindnesses meant big things -
because our hearts weren’t clipped, it was only our wings 
that couldn’t stretch. 
And the wretched big things that had seemed so important, weren’t, 
and we learnt that small things mattered, more than we knew -
were the glue that stopped us falling apart. 
Like pubs, and parks, and hugs when we meet
and friends, and plans, and days out, and nights,
live bands and crowds and shops and treats
and pasta, and loo roll, feeling safe - in control 
of our own lives. 
 
When big and small switched, the world stalled
until our eyes adjusted and we made a call
on which was which, now.
On how small things were big, looming tall
and how the big things seemed silly 
and small.