I am unequal to the challenge of isolation.
We are not designed to be distant,
to live in quarantine.
A human is not a vegetable;
we do not grow in pods.
Flat screens fail to convey
the warp of sorrow,
the curvature of joy,
the way time and space fold.
Only together may we fully see
the depth of loss—
alone, we have no reference point.
Even those who are born early
long for the day when they
can live fully skin to skin.
Until then, the soul reads blindly
by touch, feeling fingerprint ridges,
growing towards the taste of Mother,
the antibodies of human kindness,
her soft scent,
by troy cady