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Electronic Intimacy

“What’s on your mind?”
greeted me from the
quick draft window.

I decided to read before
I write, so I scrolled
through the reader to
see what I’ve missed.

Then I read you. I read
your pain.

I went from nothing on
my mind to your pain
on my mind.

(Not my pain, for a change.)

Blog comments applauded
your writing. Rightly so.
But said nothing of the pain.

I follow you but hadn’t read
anything for a while. I wasn’t
sure about what I was seeing
so I read more.

You wrote poem after poem,
then came grief and loss, and
you wrote some more.

You jumped from childhood
memories, to sickness, to
death. A lifetime of memories
in a few poems with a month
of poems in front and behind.

How can we console or be
consoled when we cry

Electronic intimacy isn’t
real. No more real than
reality TV shows.

I felt your loss deeply.
But that doesn’t matter.
We have to feel our own
losses and work through
them. Not around them.

I left a comment.

But that too I fear was
electronically inadequate.
Nor did I intend for it to
be electronically correct.

Because I care for real.
You’ve touched my life.
I wanted to touch yours
from afar.

But not electronically.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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