My small screen
Is a black hole
That sucks me into
The miasmic plasma
Of hidden light,
That both connects
And separates me
To and from others
I sense the forever
Yearning
The existential hole
Where we plug in
Hoping to feel
An integrity
That constantly falls
Apart, on its way
To wholeness
My tether to this world
Can grow thin and despairing
When the fear/hatred
Comes winding out of
The electronic web
Of connections
Or it can grow thick and full
Of sweet passion for
A planet of exquisite beauty
And courage
I need skin to skin
Eye to eye
Voice to voice
Touch
To remember we
Are one,
Even without the artificial
External constructs
To re-connect,
We are one.
January Handl
Exquisite, January. Intriguing how the spareness of poetry can speak volumes.
Thanks!❤️
Lovely, as ever, January. You express deep thoughts with simple words and constructs, revealing truisms that mere prose cannot. You add so much to this site. Thank you. I agree that the web can be a way to connect in both good and bad ways, but is never a replacement for personal contact.
Thank you! And more as “fake” and propaganda push agendas and at the same time watching the students I have had as a preschool teacher become amazing adults so much paradox here!❤️
January, your poem captures so beautifully the ambivalence so many of us feel about social media and the yearning people feel to make connections. I fear we have lost the “eye to eye, voice to voice” as we disappear down the rabbit hole of our digital worlds.
❤️🙏🏼💐
The lightness and space is a good contrast to your deep message.. I like the shape as well.
Thank you!❤️🙏🏼