My great aunt,
Tia Nelly,
Her gentle presence hasn't changed
Her soft hands that reached for mine to hold and kiss.
Her sweet glow she has when she smiles
Comfort.

She took me to her bedroom window,
Her favourite place.
"I can see all." she says
Indeed she could see who comes
and who goes
Her favourite summer flowers were in bloom
They grew just by the front gate
A perfect view

A quiet moment.
"Growing older is a lonely, sad thing."
She still hasn't let go of my hands
She's so small
"I can't do many things anymore."
I had never heard her speak like this.
I squeeze her hands
I look at her not being able to respond.
Comfort.

"You may not see me again."
She had always said this when we parted
We joked about these things
However
It seemed that
It could be true this once

She doesn't stop looking at me
Her eyes are scanning my face
Comfort
"You are so pretty you know."
She let go of my hand

Do not tell me what words
should
or should not
hurt me

to make art that entertains the people that don't know
to make art that bores the people that do

to create for the ignorant to enjoy
to create for the wise to ignore

to produce something that the shallow lavish
to produce something that the indepth expect

to shape an idea that fools them
to shape an idea that makes you the fool

to be mediocre at my passion
to be mediocre at my life

A message to you, the people
Yes, you.

Smile,

You are being watched

You have an audience

Little ears listen carefully
Little eyes notice much

You don't know this yet but one day
Those ears
Those eyes
will grow
as will their minds, hearts and thoughts

Their voices

Their presence
One in which you overlooked, neglected, discredited
will knock you back
because now you can't ignore them
You are not allowed to ignore them
They will be heard
They will be seen
And you will listen

Only when you taste it do you realise
What you have been missing
All this time.

I want this taste to last a life time
to stay in this moment
a little longer

So much comfort in the sound of a human heartbeat

You are there to help me dig but leave when I want to fill it
You are there for the gigglin fits in the dirt but leave when it’s time to clean up
You are there when my blood stream runs of energy but leave when it’s reached it’s trough

You leave me with this emptiness that I didn’t have before which I hope I don’t resent the time we dug

What do you expect me to do in this dirt?