Lucky

lucky is my dads favorite word

the one he pulls out the moment i complain

the moment i start to appear ungrateful

that i am lucky

to be alive

have a roof over my head

have access to food, running water

i have to remind myself that i’m lucky constantly

lucky to be young

to be healthy

to have no pre-existing conditions

unlikely to be seriously hurt by it

lucky to have parents who can work from home

who had the money to stockpile necessities for the next few weeks

i’m lucky because i’m going to be ok at the end of this.

but i don’t feel lucky.

i’m lucky to be stuck in a house with a dad who cares more about his girlfriend,

his girlfriend who looks closer to my age than his

i’m lucky to be constantly aware of where the knives are

always on alert

because we have to keep them hidden from my baby sister

i’m lucky to have to scream silently when i have nightmares

because otherwise people will hear

because otherwise i’ll have to talk about things

that i want to leave buried

i’m lucky to be wracked with guilt

because somehow I’m most likely going to walk away from this

relatively unscathed

but i don’t deserve to

i’m lucky to be terrified

that someone i care about will contract it

someone who isn’t lucky,

someone who can’t fight it off

i’m lucky to be scared of the aftermath, when i’ll be there

but plenty of people won’t be

am i really lucky?