Monarchy of the Touch

The gentle brushing by those hands across the forehead
Lost its guard.
The dreamy voice of the loved ones
Broke its seemingly eternal shield.
The sounds of those familiar tones
Had their armours cracked.
As I painfully kept the shovel
besides the grave of the human touch.

Yes. The ever deep grave of the human touch.

As the society began to come closer,
Via the incessant sharing of lives.
The lives that had mattered,
Found new parameters of relationships.

The instant ‘likes’ and the rapid‘double – taps’,
Conquered the time-consuming hugs and the planned rendezvous.

The idea of beauty underwent a plastic surgery,
While those eyes adapted to a million filters.
Now, the lives seem to have reached the epitome of harmony,
As the feather touch of smartness replaces the human touch.

Yes. The ever increasing glory of the touch of smartness.

Now, a toddler recognizes the smart touch
Earlier than the mother’s.
Now, the cries of the infant
Are appeased by the larynx of the technology.
Now, the virtual seems more real
As the dynamics swap their places.
Now, the mother meets her child
Via the portals of the vicious network.

Yes. The ever maddening invasion of the touch.

I pity those tiny hearts
The beats that grow up with 300 friends but not a single caring soul.
I miss those moments encompassing the greek storge
Across the dinner table.
I am saddened when I see
The change of priorities
– of having no ounce of time for people but
Definitely, for their virtual lives.
I begin covering the grave with less hesitation now,
As I see walking bodies donned with
Necklaces blocking human sounds.

Yes. The ever deep grave of the human touch.

#longreads #life #perception # weekly

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Poems and Short Stories

Poetry, Fiction, and Various Creative Writng, by Sanya Walma

the act of naming things


Merciless ramblings telling thespian anecdotes through my storybook of musings

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