Nature Deficit Disorder Poem

Disconnected Connection

My grandparents were always happy people.

They were people of the Earth,

people of the “know your neighbor”

people of the “buy local.” 

Their arms were always open,

their backyard always welcome for adventure.

I grew up enveloped in the tadpoles that swam around my feet,

enveloped in the taste, touch, smell of simple things:

Tomatoes and salt,

rain and grilled cheese,

binoculars and birds,

hands and dirt.

Mountains were my home,

the indoors and outdoors a swirl,

and discrimination was left at the stoop.

No plant was told no and no smell or noise contained.

We walked in the woods, 

stayed up late to the crackle of a fire.

We battled with the bears over summer’s ripe bounty

and indulged in what was present.

The past and the present tell two different stories.

One told by the swaying branches,

one told by the hum of a hard drive.

Time progressed and technology made it’s shot,

Now I look at what our generation has become.

It’s annoying to hear it over and over again, but it’s a problem.

We need to look up, look out, and get out.

We live in a world where being connected and having a connection,

means the wrong thing.

It means, do you have a signal?

What's the wifi password?

Are you on Twitter?

What happened to “buy local?”

What happened to “hands and dirt?”

What happened to a true connection with green?