September 17th – 18th, 2020

The Tourists are Attracted with Smiles, Laughter, and Photographs Among Each Other
The Men in Blue Vests – They Spy Art, They Glimpse it, & See it Spreading like Wildfire
They Think it’s Message is Meant to be Contained
The People in the Neighborhood – They Distinguish them as Individual Landmarks
The Colors Inside a Kaleidoscope – Sunset Orange, Chocolate Brown, the Rainbows Found Inside SweeTARTS
They Light up the Wall like Imaginary Streetlamps in the Woods of Tahoe
It’s a Place Filled with So Much Beauty, but it’s a Vision that Many Will Never Get to View
Murals – they Speak the Voices of Cultures of the Past, Homes of Today, Ancestral Voices Echo
The Generations of the Future Gaze on Now
Fruits Shared in Baskets – Births, Babies, Nectarines, Coffee Beans, Lentils & Honey Wine, Held in the Painted Woman’s Hands
Eyes See through the Graffitied Concrete, its Too Much for Many to Bear, Some Refuse to Stare, Yet they’d Leave their Mundane Sight Behind if they Did
It’s a Reminder of Oppression, the Portraits Once Blacklisted, the Beauty Once Boycotted
The Colors on the Wall – They Remain Something Many Try to Silence & Quell
But the Murals are a Gift, One that Still Beams in the Optics of the Youth, when their Parents Drive them in the Backseats of Explorers, When They’re Stuck on the Ride to School
It’s a Badge of Home, a Symbol they May or May Not Know, a Mark they Both Love & Hate
The Pictures Spoke Louder than the People