WEB

Now, we can do it all online.
Isn’t it grand, and isn’t it fine?
The entire world at the tip of our fingers!
Come on, join the fun –
Why do you sit and linger?

I linger because
I’m a little unsure
whether this truly
connects us all more.

When was the last time
you knocked at your friends’ door
and sipped at the coffee
they lovingly poured?

When was the last time
you heard your parent’s voice?
The real one -
not filtered through digital noise?

When was the last time
you were hugged and embraced,
wrapped in arms of affection
and comfort and grace?

When did you last
look someone in the eye
and hold their gaze softly…
Could you even try?

Are we able, now,
to do such simple things?
Or have we lost
all the freedom
the ‘here and now’ brings?

Are we capable
of meeting a loved one
and strolling
gently through the park,
without texting and scrolling?

Can we come together
to just interact
without photos and poses,
without putting on an act?

Have we lost the desire
to be messy and real;
Surrendered to filters
and stories and reels?

Do we understand
that life is far richer
than what may be captured
in videos and pictures?

I linger, I do,
though the world spins right on.
I want to step in,
yet I find myself torn
between all the beauty
that progress bestows
and the pain that it weaves;
the loneliness it sows.

Now, we can do it all online,
yet I miss standing with others at the checkout line,
I miss smoothing the wrinkles on my grandma’s face,
I miss burying my head in a loved one’s embrace,
I miss brief morning greetings and tipping of hats,
I miss handshakes and laughter… I miss all of that.

Mostly I miss
the joy and the ease
of being with others
in presence and peace;
and in conflict as well,
in debate, disagreement –
I miss human contact
in its full and wide remit.

I know, there’s no ‘going back’ –
that can’t be.
But I do wish that
we could wake up and see:
much of this ‘connection’
has left us lonely.
Wi-Fi and data
and rapid 5G
can’t take the place
of a human heartbeat.

They can’t summon the crunch of the leaves in the fall,
They can’t mimic the warmth of a hand-woven shawl,
Can’t hold us as we cry,
Egg us on as we try…
I feel all this potential is just passing us by.

Yes, these tools are among us, here to stay and to grow.
I just wonder – how deep and how far we must go
before we return to what our souls just know -
that life is for living, and not just for show;
that love’s forged in patience and not on the go;
that connection demands both elation and woe.

So maybe, just maybe,
we can put our phones down
and breathe easy sometimes
before we all drown
in deep disconnection,
miscommunication…
Let’s remember ourselves
and fine tune that station,
so we can see and hear each other for real;
so we can crack open and once again feel.

I know this sentiment can’t fit on a reel,
on a five-second video, a snapshotted story.
If you’ve made it this far, you might even feel sorry
for devoting your precious and limited time
to something not made on an assembly line.

Or perhaps you’ll look up
at your loved ones and think:
My god, we’re just here
sitting right on the brink
of missing each other
entirely, completely,
while life flutters by,
ever fragile and fleeting.

My goodness,
can’t we just look away?
For a moment, a minute,
for one precious day?

Can we look at each other and mean what we say?
Can we be someone’s safe place as they find their way?

---

They say that a picture speaks one thousand words.
Do millions of pictures, then, make us feel heard?

Somehow, I don’t think so.
So please, sometimes, look up.
Smile at your server as tea fills your cup.
Wonder whether the clouds will bless fields with their rain.
Sit down with your nagging, uncomfortable pain.

Look up, look around, for the world is still here.
But one day, you won’t be.
You’ll be gone, do you hear?


Time waits for nobody, least of all me,
so please, let me linger,
let me sit back and see,
let me saunter and sigh,
let me doubt and decide,
let me live, let me breathe
and remember I’m here
for this short little while…
Won’t you join me then, dear?

Photo by Elena Rabkina

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Treasure