What a Difference When You’re Not Wrangling Kids


I ambled through the galleries
Casually rounding the corner
I found myself
Face to cubist face with
Picasso’s Portrait of a Woman
So close, I couldn’t breathe
Like Pollack, lifeless in books
Pulsing in person

This art, so much Art
Stand before a master
And marvel
How did he, did she, did they
Feel such beauty into being
Pen, ink, oil, canvas, clay
Capturing longing and danger
Agony in sublimation
On display

Look with your eyes
But I longed to touch
Ancient sandstone
Carved wood and marble curves
Silver tea sets serving
Founding families
Did they expect their
Breakfast dishes to be
Gawked at by strangers

No. But those others who
Wove this magic, and
Brushed souls
Onto canvas, stretched spirits
Life trapped in oil
They knew what they were

They worked for gods
Not tourists
Pocket the pennies
Praise the patrons, but
Paint for the gods

The Watchers, the Whisperers,
Applauding when you step
Back from the edge
Of your madness and say:
It is finished

Creator create through
Your creation
One soul
Energy of life
the Culmination
Just a reminder in case
You didn’t get to church
This is who we are