This poem is sort of addendum to a poem about Opening Day I wrote a few years ago.

—

This Opening Day is different
A bittersweet in-between
The cloud of viral darkness still overhead
A yet to exhale crowd, socially distanced and dog tired

We’ve been through so much
An endless extra inning affair
Like a marathon with an ever shifting finish line
The umpires call of “safe”, familiar and foreign at the same time

Our cautiously hopeful hands hold our caps over heavy hearts
As we recite Spring’s liturgy once more
As we survey the sparsely seated stands
And as we remember the fear, the smoke, and the loss

Everything has changed
Yet somehow the eternals remain
Gloves will catch and bats will hit
As our destiny remains heaven’s sandlot

And so when we hear this year’s sacred invocation
The Divine’s voice in the words “play ball”
The Logos in the first pitch
We’ll weep with Easter gratitude and Good Friday sorrow

Another year, another team, another season.