I haven’t tried to write a poem in YEARS but was inspired to try my hand at one. I post this without editing, straight from the cooker. Not sure what I feel but I DO feel this so that’s a start.
Analog Heart
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Goes my analog heart as the world moves digitally on.
My days are diagnosed, my colors categorized, and my feelings filed away.
My photos are in folders, my music in machines, and my memories are kept
in my emails.
I fell in love online and broke up over text.
We dated via video and talked on the phone and once I took two pictures of our hands and made it look as if they were holding one another.
I feel the cold embrace of a wireless world and recoil.
I miss the blurred image of a hasty picture.
I miss the crackle of a record or the side change of a cassette.
I miss getting letters in the mail that remind me I exist.
I miss seeing the scars and cracks of the analog world.
But…
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe I changed.
Maybe I let the world get cold, become mechanical, and lose its meaning.
Because…
The same people are in the photos – printed or digital.
The same feelings can be expressed in person or via technology.
The same music and films that bring me to tears and make my heart soar are
stll there, are still alive, just in a different form.
The forms have changed but it’s the heart that drives all of it and makes it real.
Or unreal.
Or…
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It’s still there.
Beating out the rhythm of my soul, filling my life with the music of terminal velocity – falling forever into the grave.
And I need the analog because it reflects what I am but am pulled towards the new digital age because it’s what I am becoming.
We are in the middle of a birthing process and unsure what is to come next.
So we cling.
We clamber.
We claw.
And we mourn.
When this is really a celebration.
A transcendence into tomorrow.
We just need…
We just need…
We just need to remember who we were, who we are, and what it is that makes us…
Human.
The Spooky World of Chris Ringler 