Messenger

Usually I write because we’ve done something that I want to share, or sometimes things pop into my head and I want to record them. Last week I stumbled upon ‘The Prompt’ and I thought it would be an interesting challenge.

The prompt this week is ‘Messenger’ which made me think of Facebook messenger which made me think about how chatting has changed.

It’s not exactly a poem but not exactly prose; not totally fact, but not totally fiction and definitely hyperbole.

Messenger

When Boo was small and I was home alone-but-never-alone,
I would talk to my sister on the phone for hours at a time.
There were mobiles but mine wasn’t so smart and it was easier to talk.

Before that, when I went to uni I would get letters -every day at first,
From my mum or a bullied younger sister to help keep me connected,
or give me something to look forward to when the homesickness took over.

Earlier still, in school  we would write notes during lessons,
Then talk all evening- hogging the one phone line to say all of the words, every single thought.

But now, the phone line is silent,
The letters only bills.
We chat off and on all day,
My sisters, my husband, my friends – with iMessage and Facebook and texts,
But no sounds.

With no beginning and no end the conversations meander through days,
And pick up a when random thoughts arrive.

But somehow, something is lost and much is left unsaid,
Because it’s too easy to type the happy words,
To make them laugh at the anecdotes, when sometimes what I really need to say is,

‘Help me, I’m drowning’