I had a wonderful weekend in St. Pete at the SAQ Global conference. I am still processing the artistic insights I gained, the importance of artists speaking their truths. The friendships. The silliness. The power of the bonds between artmakers.
Meanwhile, returning home, I am remembering some poetry writing I did last weekend, watching a work crew in my neighborhood. So tonight that’s what I want to share.
To future historians
who wonder what it felt like. What
the lives of ordinary people were
in the time of the great dismantling
of the structures we had assumed would be forever.
It felt like 7:15 Sunday morning in the cool air,
a big pickup backing in, the arrival of dark-skinned men,
a crew of five moving with experienced precision
up the ladder to my neighbor’s roof beginning
a choreography of scraping in parallel rows
down from the roof peak toward the gutters.
The sum of simple, hand-held flat shovels
and the bent-back motions of each man accomplishing
the removal of enough shingles that by 7:35
the discarding began. Bundles of now-useless asphalt
carried strong-arms-high and tossed from the edge
to land in the dumpster: a percussion of accomplishment.
It felt like this. Watching their motions — the overhead heaving,
the weight of the landings — hearing the ripping off
of what had been protection. So fast. So efficient.
Like the orchestrated undoings being written
into effect by strokes of a privileged pen.
It felt like this, future historians, witnessing the shredding,
knowing my country tis of thee was in the dumpster also.
Knowing these strong brown men could find everything
gone. At day’s end when they’d drive the truck
to what had been their home and family that morning.
By 8:50 all the shingles had been removed.
The plywood beneath now vulnerable. Exposed.
(Artwork note: It was just this morning that I thought to use to use my art quilt, “So It Will Not Break In Two,” as illustration for this poem and this blog post. I created the work around 2015, as part of my series of remembering and recreating my childhhod experience of home and the fragility of home. Writing about our contemporary political reality, I am called to remember that the forces that can destroy homes and families – just as surely as if a tree were growing up right through the roof – can be forces from outside as well as inside.)
. . . . . .
A reminder for those who care about the direction of our country and who are deeply concerned about where it is going: The simple citizenship act of writing to your representative is still a powerful and important act. Compose a few words. Put them in a document you can cut and paste into the “contact form” on your representative’s site. Find your senators and representatives and copy their email addresses into your working document so it’s an easy task. Write. Repeat.
Find your US representatives’ contact HERE: https://www.house.gov/representatives.
Find your senators’ contact HERE; https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm
. . . . . .
For all the artmakers: Happy creating
For all the art lovers: Happy appreciating
Thank you for reading. I always enjoy questions and comments.
--Bobbi
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