My poem Thank you was originally entitled ‘Prayer to Art’.
What was I gonna say?
Oh yeah, that how can I pray
to Art? how can I feel that way
all around me things are crud.
Mobile phones full of African blood
and maybe guns in my diamond stud
hurt children becoming adults who hurt,
surviving in cultures driven by hurt,
‘no pain no gain’,
ruled by gain
and going insane
everyone says it’s getting worse.
Everyone wants to engage reverse,
but there is no reverse.
some things are better.
Maybe we’ll get there
I have to try, have to work.
Behind the numbing list of hurts
hide joy, and love, and original thoughts
telling, and blessings worth giving
and dreams worth receiving
and songs worth saving.
I’ll draw a chart
and aim a dart
with every start
of every part
of my staring, gulping, blubbering heart
I’ll pray to Art.