by George Mesro Coles-El
Would you bother to read this poem today
if no pen or paper
could move or stay
with stanzas to display
the world as it turns and sways?
Would throbbing drums move your feet
In a pattern of stomps and sweeps
From a time when your ancestors could not sleep
Without prayers for their souls to keep?
How would food look without connection
to the creativity of confections?
What album would be your selection
if the cover couldn’t tell you about its collection?
Would there be murals or record charts?
Rehearsals to show moving parts
with messages drawn from the heart?
What would life be without art?
Drab and lonely, not even pasty hues.
No difference in ink used
or books perused.
no wonder at beauty because whimsy is excused,
and spontaneity misused,
is art refused.
Art is the way to see through each other’s eyes,
by similarities we espy.
Art is the way we chronicle the world going by,
fly reminders of times by the wayside.
Art is the way to celebrate precious lives.
Those who died
by those alive.
Art is the way to realize
And broadcast live
to brighten the sky!
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