This poem feels incomplete, so I need your feedback.
At birth, the umbilical cord is cut.
From this moment, the now phantom limb burns
deep in our gut, and wonders
how it’s ever going to
feel connected again.
Luckily for my generation,
never before have people been so
With technology we can attach,
we can attach,
But there are glitches,
crossing between what we knew,
and what we now
We know using our hands to swipe is a control,
and as such waving goodbye has become
We know that while
give the greatest clarity and definition,
they cannot be trusted anymore,
because their shapes do not mirror
our rectangular visions.
We know our first words learnt are
and missing from our vocabulary is
We know the heart vibrates
when we receive messages from others,
and soon anatomy books will show
it being no longer in
but in our pockets.
(Though every time we raise it
to our ears, we are surprised to hear
We know our ancestors could successfully
navigate all four corners of the globe
by repeatedly getting
Now we play a delicate
walking, heads down, too scared
to deviate from the 5cm
we tip-toe to
the coffee shop
right in front
We know how to like things,
how to like things,
how to like
but not how to love.