For you
(who looks too far to find art) -an acrostic
patricia magno
It is in every breath that we have drawn, the secret
nuances of the language we speak - a language forged
in the heat of war and the chill of conspiracy by people
(not gods, not dreams) but of flesh and bone and wounds never
cauterized. Child, listen! Child, heed my wounds because
Art flows within us, in the blood that still has the power to boil.
(No, art is creation, for good and for beauty and we swore to use it to
destroy) Child, listen. The lines in your palm and the sheen of your hair -
everything is rooted in creation, in art. We of the chameleon
skin and the chameleon languages have forgotten where we began, the
cradle of the womb, the oil paints of everyday life to the watercolor sky -
everywhere, art is everywhere you care to look
No, I speak of us now! (not your poems / stories you write in
class or the red inkblots you receive in their place) YOU, who is an
enigma of cultures, you without footing, determination, inspiration
We are art, we are the fullness of every Mona Lisa serene,
every David stone cold, every chapel cailing - every
wild, sweeping Van Gogh, but better - oh, so much better because
in us beats the heart of martyrs, in our footprints lie the dust if heroes. Our
life in itself is art. The arcane, the ancient
language we have neglected in the dull
repetition of everyday but Child! never forget that
in you throbs the masterpiece of masters, in you
sings the orchestra of the greatest conductor. In
every word we breathe - give glory, give thanks.
---
currently playing: powerless - nelly furtado
happy 19th, JODI! you inspire us all.
cheers to another year!:)
patricia magno
It is in every breath that we have drawn, the secret
nuances of the language we speak - a language forged
in the heat of war and the chill of conspiracy by people
(not gods, not dreams) but of flesh and bone and wounds never
cauterized. Child, listen! Child, heed my wounds because
Art flows within us, in the blood that still has the power to boil.
(No, art is creation, for good and for beauty and we swore to use it to
destroy) Child, listen. The lines in your palm and the sheen of your hair -
everything is rooted in creation, in art. We of the chameleon
skin and the chameleon languages have forgotten where we began, the
cradle of the womb, the oil paints of everyday life to the watercolor sky -
everywhere, art is everywhere you care to look
No, I speak of us now! (not your poems / stories you write in
class or the red inkblots you receive in their place) YOU, who is an
enigma of cultures, you without footing, determination, inspiration
We are art, we are the fullness of every Mona Lisa serene,
every David stone cold, every chapel cailing - every
wild, sweeping Van Gogh, but better - oh, so much better because
in us beats the heart of martyrs, in our footprints lie the dust if heroes. Our
life in itself is art. The arcane, the ancient
language we have neglected in the dull
repetition of everyday but Child! never forget that
in you throbs the masterpiece of masters, in you
sings the orchestra of the greatest conductor. In
every word we breathe - give glory, give thanks.
---
currently playing: powerless - nelly furtado
happy 19th, JODI! you inspire us all.
cheers to another year!:)
Labels: tula
