Isolation

  
Isolation
 
We live on islands that are now connected
By pulses coursing swiftly through the lines—
Yet still, in much that matters, disconnected,
As fear and distance carve dividing lines.
 
So what was joined—and one—is split in two
And then in even more of pieces. These
Are pushed and pulled apart, as in-between
The chasms fill with ever-growing seas.
 
We spend our leisure time on mobile phones—
As work consumes the lives of those with jobs.
What time is left for looking in the soul
Or feeling in the heart that quietly throbs?
 
We seek to bridge the gulfs of distance, time—
And realize, too late, how hard that is.
And meanwhile, we neglect the ones nearby,
Who need the time for just a bit of bliss.
 
We each need solitude at times, but not
This fragmentation of the parts. The whole
Is part of what we are. A leaf that's plucked
Will shrivel. So, the isolated soul.
 
2022, June 13^th, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York