I write to you on this parched thin paper
With my ink-stained fingers
I write to you
Not knowing if you’ll be able to read this
Or if you’ll recognize my handwriting
I write to you to tell you of the anguish
Hiding behind a smile on an Instagram post
The loneliness concealed behind every word
On “what’s on your mind?” in Facebook
Empty spaces
Your “likes” only deepens this isolated nook
Your comments
Cannot substitute this need for comfort
Empty spaces

I write to you to tell you to come out
And take off the masks and facades
Behind every keyboard
Empty spaces
Behind every screens and monitors
Empty spaces
Your room may be next to mine
But this digital space puts us hundreds of miles away

I write to tell you to slow down
To look up and not frown
Where every color in the sky is breathed in
Reclaim that sense of wonder and mystery
I write to tell you to leave the whole world from that tiny gadget
I write to tell you to bring just yourself
And remember solitude
Remember snail mails
Handwritten love letters
Or the magical smell of those pages in a book
And their hard covers

I write to you to say that yes, we are more connected than ever
But we are also the most detached, fractured, touched-up people in history
Stripping who we really are
Removing parts of ourselves
Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. You Tube. Pinterest.
Empty spaces

I write to ask you
If you remember warm bear hugs
And the sun kissing your skin
And the mesmerizing stars showering on you

I write to tell you to listen
Put away what you have in your hands
And listen
I write to tell you to know me
Really know me
Because between me and that sleek hard device
Are empty spaces
Oh where have you gone?
You’re next to me
But all I see is
Empty spaces


© 2014. Wela Midel. All rights reserved. 

Wela Midel

Loves fashion but has thrifty eclectic weird style! Recycling & upcycling junkie. Frustrated DIY crafter. Writer by profession. In love with life. Obsessed with Jesus. She also writes at The Home Based Dream and Meet WelDan.