My great aunt,
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
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.
"You may not see me again."
She had always said this when we parted
We joked about these things
It seemed that
It could be true this once
She doesn't stop looking at me
Her eyes are scanning my face
"You are so pretty you know."
She let go of my hand
Do not tell me what words
or should not
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
as an art student this scares me and i hate it
A message to you, the people
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
as will their minds, hearts and thoughts
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
when older people dont 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?