Cutting the cord

[Mark Cecil]

2nd edit

Cutting the Cord

Two plugs nestle in my ears,
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight,
by the smart phone
they’re connected to.

It has become my umbilical cord,
my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate,
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed.

Exposing me to sights and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment,
That’s entertainment,”
but at times
at the expense of everything else.

At such a time as this I ask myself:
“when should this cord be cut?”
My honest reply:
“Now, but not yet. ”


Original-

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body
for I’m now severed to live life apart

But since developing to a man
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang
around me like a noose
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.