A haunting reflection on lost humanity. Our instinct to howl and dance muted by indifference, while cruelty parades as normal. The “strange fruit” lingers, reminding us of what we’ve forsaken and what it means to truly see and feel again.

Humanity’s connection with our Mother, Gaia, is slipping away from us these days. And in the process, we are also losing our humaneness, our ability to see each other as whole. It is possible to have a modern world and stay true to the world around us and to each other, but I think it will take a whole new system with new social relations, new ways of thinking and acting. As hard as we may try as individuals, or in small groups, the cancer of ‘me first’, and isolation will only grow.

Your poem is right on time Emma and I thank you for posting it.

-Curt

I agree with you, start to finish and after the second time of reading, Curt. If people are as intelligent as they believe, why can’t modern and natural world succeed as partners. We know of the sweetness of mix and match with wonderful results. We know that differences create something unseen before, individuality lives on.. and on, consequently. Failures happen but can be adjusted with or by tombolic attempts over time. Surely things don’t have to be rushed, time makes time – use it, perhaps. Perhaps?

I like to “touch earth” myself, and try to do it every day, even when it’s cold outside. Maybe especially when it’s cold outside. Urban life was never something I fully jibed with. Closer & closer I get to my ultimate goal of becoming an old Appalachian hermit lol. Though I am grateful to have had the city experience. Often, it’s the city folk who appreciate what we hillbillies sometimes take for granted.

I really like this “paragraph poetry” form with longer lines, so different from my own curt, fast-moving style. Ideas & descriptions can linger much more effectively in this form, and it shows that you aren’t lazy like me lol. This was a glorious sonder for reader and protagonist alike, a sonder within a sonder, maybe….

Hi, emmagreen. You’ve come by to read me now and then, and I want you to know how much I appreciate the visit and of course the words you leave behind. those words are gifts you do not have to leave, but do so to tell me what you just said about Me, so naturally I was looking out for me. So, I suppose I’m just being transactionable — but damn, that seems so selfish, doesn’t it? But I want you to read me, so I stroke your inky side, the only side you can risk showing to the possibly deranged individual who has just stroked your thigh, or the back of your eyeball with my digital representatives to a.) tell you what I thought of the digital you that you left for me to read, so my ink has been solicited by your digital you. Wow. That sounds so cold and calculated, doesn’t it? “I’ll give you this incredibly small bit of me (pardon the pun) so you wille share a byte or two. (Ouch) Sorry, I don’t usually do this. Like the rest of us, I read you because I wanted you to read me, because I like your stuff, at least what I’ve read so far, and I know just by looking at the stats ratio of browsing for Jolts/Jollies, meaning I want you to read my stuff/over I Like your stuff and want to see more, Damn, that sounds so carnal, doesn’t it? But our comments (digital us we leave behind to get a little inkstroking. We can be brief and just barely human, or we can leave our sincere thoughts about what you read of mine. Damn, this is starting to make my head hurt. I just want you to know that I appreciate the strokes I leave behind so you do the same ad infinitum.. Boy, that was cold, wasn’t it. Okay, so … “Come visit me some more, whenever you feel that itch for something … diferent, a little odd or bizarre, maybe dangerously over-inkish, but that’s just the way I ride.” Hah. foregive me, please, but I had to break that off. I was nearly offensive. You might think me dangerously digital-degenerate, but I think I overdid it at the ink bar today. But I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t like the way you write, what you say and how you say it. Okay, that sounds WAAAY over the legal limit of digital groveling, so I’ll stop. Bye.