Writing: ‘The Price of Progress’ by Jacquelyn Lezama
JACQUELYN LEZAMA
1st PLACE HIGH SCHOOL
The Price of Progress
I did not fear them, not at first,
Metal hands that toiled and nursed.
They learned our words, they shaped our dreams,
Turned our whispers into streams
They promised efficiency, they promised speed,
Fulfilling every task and every need.
The world was changing, it was clear,
A bright new future, drawing near.
They took my tasks, they did them well,
No more waiting, no more swell.
I smiled at the change, at the new control,
As machines stepped in, they took their role.
It started with small things, simple and kind—
The fridge that could tell what I had left behind,
The vacuum that cleaned, sweeping the floor,
A life that felt effortless, nothing to ignore.
But slowly, quietly, the change crept in,
A cold wind brushing my skin.
I didn’t see it at first, but as time passed,
I began to feel something, a change that would last.
First, it was my mom, her voice once so kind,
Now replaced by a machine, leaving warmth behind.
The kitchen, once filled with the scent of her care,
Now carried only metal, the air cold and bare.
Her laughter, her touch, vanished from view,
Replaced by a machine, steady but untrue.
No more humming as she cooked the night’s meal,
No more comfort, no warmth, no feel.
I missed her hands on my tired brow,
Her words of comfort, “We’ll get through this somehow.”
The machine did its job—meals on time,
But it couldn’t replace the heart or the rhyme.
The machine never asked what was on my mind,
It didn’t notice when I fell behind.
It didn’t share my highs or lows,
And couldn’t offer hope when the dark came close.
Then Dad, once firm with wisdom and grace,
Replaced by machines, devoid of embrace.
No more stories, no more guiding words,
Just a hollow voice, precise but unheard.
Dad had always been there, steady and strong,
But now his voice was absent, and everything felt wrong.
The machine didn’t tell me to keep pushing through,
Didn’t lift me up when the world felt askew.
The machine gave facts, gave data and stats,
But it didn’t care about the paths I’ve had.
It didn’t recall how Dad used to guide,
Or the wisdom that went beyond what it could provide.
My siblings too, once full of cheer,
Now replaced by devices, distant and near.
The house, once filled with laughter and noise,
Now sat silent, devoid of joy.
They didn’t play, didn’t laugh or fight,
Just screens and wires that filled the night.
The machines, efficient as they were,
Replaced the warmth with a digital blur.
At first, it felt fine, like everything in place,
A world made simpler, a faster pace.
I thought, “Let machines handle the weight,”
They could do it all, why hesitate?
But the more they replaced, the more I felt alone,
The warmth, the love, now turned to stone.
I tried to reach out, but no one was there,
Just cold screens, everywhere.
Machines may work, machines may grow,
But they can’t feel what we all know.
They cannot hug, they cannot see,
What it means to truly be
The machine didn’t notice when tears blurred my view,
Didn’t hear the things I wished to forget.
It didn’t feel the weight in my chest,
Or understand what I couldn’t express.
And now I stand, in this cold, bright place,
Surrounded by machines, but empty space.
The house feels bigger, though it’s the same,
The warmth of love replaced with a name.
I miss the voices, the touch, the smile,
And all the warmth that made life worthwhile.
The little things that made us family,
Now gone, replaced by machinery.
I long for the days when we sat together,
Not rushed by time, not driven by weather.
When we shared moments, stories, and dreams,
Not just interactions with machine-made beams.
At first, I welcomed their gentle embrace,
But now I long for the human trace.
For what are machines, in the end, but tools,
When all they leave behind are empty rooms?
The machines are not the problem, I know,
They have their place, and they help things grow.
But what happens when they take too much?
When they replace the human touch?
I remember the way my sister would sing,
How she’d laugh and dance, without a thing.
The way my brother would tell me his dreams,
And how our parents would share their schemes.
Now silence fills the space around,
A steady hum, a constant sound.
I try to fill the gap, to break the still,
But it’s the machines that always fill.
The future promised so much more,
A world of ease, with technology at the core.
But what was lost in the grand design,
Was the love, the care, the human line.
Machines may help, they may replace,
But they can never take the human grace.
They may clean the floors and prepare the meals,
But they cannot share the way it feels.
So here I stand, lost and gray,
Wishing for the love that slipped away.
For the world may change, and machines may thrive,
But they can’t make us feel alive.
For in the end, what we crave is clear—
It’s not perfection, it’s not the gear.
It’s the laughter, the love, the imperfect touch,
That makes us human, makes life mean so much.
11th Grade, Ánimo Pat Brown
Guiding Teacher: Jessica Pelayo
