Refraction. Reflection.
Gradient tones of expression,
landscapes or history,
our light rarely follows a straight line.
Curves. Diagonally,
adjustment required in space or
sign, it seeps through cracks
moves forcefully beyond sublime.
Unusually unaware,
we cannot control the capacity, or
silence, of corresponding darkness.
An unlikely presence of another mind.
Intimacy initially.
To those who dare expose themselves,
our light will not be altered
but eternally fortified.
Transcendent existence,
born unto an incidental state, we
cannot separate stigma from strata.
Dust on the wind, particles of matter.
Fragmentation, alienation,
morals to immortality, holding tight
all we believe is crucial.
Our life rarely follows a straight line.
Concrete and iron foundations give way to steel and glass structures growing ever higher
each decade.
Our skyline swallows up the landscape,
shadows of the buildings below grow longer, taller
indefinitely.
A reflection is merely what is there after the damage is done.
Urban renewal, construction cranes and condominiums and more vacant office towers. Overdevelopment, excavation, replacement or gentrification, population speculation.
This is history more than yesterday. What will we know when it has all been replaced?
Our future overlooks its direction by a necessity or greed
I will call it a prayer, for lack of
a better word. It will hold more hope
than a wish; more reality than a dream.
It shall be spiritual, yes, but
not religious, certainly not
with a capital R. That kind of thing
may have its place, but not here.
Not now. Religion does not
allow for differences, as I see it, and
neither do they. Most would prefer
to have everything go their way.
My prayer, as I will call it, is one
for respect and appreciation
of our differences.
Not one of us is the same and none
of us are to blame. It is as it is, but
need not be what it was. In my prayer,
and it should not seem like a dream,
our differences would not divide us,
but make us stronger as we allow
an increased capacity of forgiveness
in thought and in action.
Acceptance comes from
surrounding ourselves with those who
may chose an unfamiliar destination,
wear a different colour of skin, or
identify by another sexual orientation
than the one we have known.
My prayer, and my hope, is one where
we will believe in others
as much as ourselves.
This is the prayer that keeps me giving
and breathing, this is a dream
that keeps me hoping and believing.
This battered face prefers
the other side of the camera,
watching, waiting, silently
from the side. An observer,
looking on. Looking out.
These impaired eyes have
witnessed so much, perhaps
too much. Injustice, imbalance,
all in plain view. Images
flow through me, captured
for posterity. An honesty easier
recorded than memorized.
Focused on what is before me
more convenient than looking
within, where I know, and will
not be surprised at, what goes on
behind the camera. Damning
view of humanity, insincerity,
imbalanced injustice remains
with me. The unknowns,
knowingly stowed away,
referenced only occasionally,
when in disbelief at what
I have experienced. Privately.
Honestly. Silently. Memory.
Without the light. In camera.
Refraction. Reflection.
