Ronn Burton

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photo credit: Dollar Gill

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The clock strikes 

11 

sway 

joints crackle 

pinpoints of light through lace 

ascend 

rise 

lift beyond 

the light flickers 

soft glow of a blue screen we now call home 

cut to black 

…

The panels align 

the clocks freeze 

arching, compressing 

the false world - the fabric of society loosely drapes

…

we reach into our screen, longing for connection 

forced 

arch 

align, swirl, out of alignment 

shadow play 

…why should I get off the couch? 

…

…

The flickering green light of the internet modem signals our only movement forward 

the glow

hidden faces stare back through pockets of fabric 

the breath becomes shallow 

the lampshade - tattered and torn - mirroring the fragments of our collective souls 

but are we broken? 

…

…I feel broken 

…and yet

…

The breath quickens 

shallow yet 

steady 

lift and release 

open your neck 

inhale 

aaahhh 

there you will find it 

in the inspiration 

close your eyes 

do you hear it? 

The pulse of the planet equalizing 

harmonizing 

relaxing 

coinciding 

listening 

for the first time in many moons 

releasing the grip 

lengthening the stride 

opening 

stretching the sinew 

fingertips touch (even from 6 feet apart)

…

…

Why? 

Why now? 

Why us? 

…

…

What is there to learn? 

What is there to hear? 

The legs tremble 

there is unrest 

pulsing 

finding a new rhythm 

and suddenly

The eyes open 

clarity 

this is why 

the inner silence is why 

the small quiet simple voice is why 

you are why 

I am why 

we are why

And now, to …

?

!

.

,

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