OSKAR LEONARD

Dear Oskar,

I wish to speak to the boy who marked off days on his calendar in red marker pen, indicating the first lockdown which he thought would be the last. I wish to speak to the boy who bit his fingers down to the bone worrying about remote gender clinic appointments and managing birth control over the phone.

I wish to speak to the boy who lost the chance to be with his lover, but found it again through calls and texts and, eventually, distanced walks through farmers’ fields. I wish to speak to the boy who stared diligently at a laptop screen, on a battered armchair in the living-room, educating himself from emails while his Dad still went to work.

I wish to speak to the boy who smiled at posters of horses and wrestlers while listening to youth workers speak about their day-today lives during check-up calls.

I wish to speak to the boy who cried with joy when he found out about his saviour: the support bubbles which would allow him to hold his boyfriend tightly again. I wish to speak to the boy who sat nervously on the crowded college bus, herded back into education and protected only by a black, cloth mask from the packed-in students around him.

I wish to speak to the boy who found new one-way systems dizzying, especially the tight loop around one of the only gender-neutral toilets he felt safe to be in.

I wish to speak to the boy who continued to write poetry with inky fingers, filling notebooks and online storage before sending his work off into the world, braving the crush of rejection.

I wish to speak to the boy who changed calendar squares from red to blue, then alternating pink and orange, as life seemed to return to normal although college became a biweekly event.

I wish to speak to the boy who froze at the thought of his support bubble being ripped away, as the country seemed to be thrown into chaos once again.

I wish to speak to the boy who said goodbye to college for the second time, attending video lessons while snuggled in a navy blanket and, often, nursing a throbbing headache.

I wish to speak to the boy who visited universities online, picking his future partially blind while wondering if his grades would be plucked from some stranger’s hat.

I wish to speak to the boy who soaked a pillow in tears on those lonely first days, turning on the radio to hear someone else’s voice and wishing that it was all just a nightmare. I hope I have reached him. I wish I could go back in time and hold him, to promise that he will see a little light in the overwhelming darkness, which arrived by night but remained through day, after day, after day, until he thought he’d never see the sun again.

It is there, just beyond the clouds.

Best wishes,

Oskar

Oskar Leonard’s poem ended with a message of hope