We live next to each other.
But a text message isn’t
being with someone
It’s a mode.
Where’s the crisscross of laughter?
Where’s the contact of a hug?
… the calm that comes from a kiss?
It’s so easy to ride along side,
motoring through the day.
The stuff of life like barricades,
keeping us from intersecting;
shielding us from what our spirits need.
It’s the peril of the parallel — our gaze is ever forward
propelling us past the chance
for quiet & connection
that only comes
when we turn toward another.
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