Amy Souza
Acrylic and graphite on paper
Inspiration piece

Desert Rising
By David Mendes
Response

Not a minute too soon,
The hectic jazz of the world–
The swoon of its siren notes,
The blaring of its busy industry,
The tap crack bam
Of its hard gears and gadgets
Whirling and turning and churning,
Its song to a million plots and purposes–
Stopped.

For so long,
The song
Pushed me,
And pressed me,
Forward, ever forward,
Step by step, step over step,
and pirouette.
Forward, ever forward.

But then I began
To slip,
Into fumbling mad puppet jigs,
Strung up and sliding,
Folly dance moving,
Winding unbinding,
Forward, ever forward.

What wonder it was,
For no reason to tell
When the cruel cacophany quelled.
The mean tugs slacked,
The striking gears purred,
And just like that,
The requiem of everyday drew still.

Bones broken, brittle, and strewn,
I lay silent and wasted,
Disowned.

So busted I woke,
In the desert of self,
A thrown away thing,
an empty shell.

From there I discerned
A new powerful tune,
One long hidden within,
Faint but resound.
It counted one beat to ear.
Then, two breaths to lung.
Then, three steps to stride,
Then, a full run.

My found spirit stirs me,
My tempo is done.
By day the sky colors,
I am warmed by the sun,
In the long hours I keep quiet,
I am brushed in the calm.

——————————————————
Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.