Teams of One

We shout, speak, whisper in their ears,
But the multitude never hears.

We’re surrounded by countless,
But engulfed by lonesomeness.

Stricken with overpopulation,
Still we take on life in teams of one.



Photo subject is a piece from my collection of “Soulcards”, created by artist Deborah Koff-Chapin.


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  1. A very deep and extremely felt emotion that I think many of us share. “Surrounded by countless, but engulfed by lonesomeness” – a few short words speaking a mouthful of paragraphs. Excellent expression of what today’s world is causing us all to feel … “disconnected.” Wonderful Carrie! ❤


    1. I chanced upon this and almost passed it up. Then I read it. I write about a man in prison, “My Name is Jamie. Life in Prison.” A man who is caught in the lack of prison justice and has spent a lot of time in solitary confinement. I see these words fitting into what the scenario of a row of cells. Hearing but not seeing each other. Multitudes together but still alone. They scream but no one hears them.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s darkly poetic how our lives & interactions with others can be so easily likened to prison solitary confinement. I read a couple of your posts this morning. Having recently been a victim of a crime, I never really thought about what happens to these young men after they are sent away… or even to what caused them to commit criminal acts in the first place. It’s certainly eye opening to consider their stories.


        1. There is always more to the story, to any story, than most people take the time to find out. It’s one of my biggest issues when anyone tries to tell me their opinion of someone or events that take place. I tell them to not pass judgement unless they know the ‘other side of the story’. I’ve met interesting people when I’ve taken time to do just that. The mass incarceration of Blacks and minorities is overwhelming. Do they commit more crimes? No, it’s just the perception that we’ve been made to believe, and regretfully, many people do. Thank you for reading . . .


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