May 31, 2020
Last night
Some of my city burned
This morning after surveying
The remains
I decided to finish painting
My dining room table: blue
And the chairs
Confederate gray
Irony not lost
The whole world is exploding
In black and white and fire
On Pentecost Sunday
No less
I think there is a sermon here
In the gaping mouth
Of a burnt-out storefront
I told my children to look
This is history
Don’t look away
Is there any room for gray?
Abstract sacrifice
Concrete strewn with glass
And looted video games
Sprawling graffiti on the sidewalk
We walk every day
“We Demand Justice”
and expletives
My children see them
I tell them they do not
Need to look away
I do not know where to stand
Between the primal urge
To retreat to safety
And the Holy call
To insist even voices
That speak in expletives
Be heard
City crews are already out
Returning the monuments
To their pristine state
Leaving the homes and stores
and streets to clean their own debris
How fast the default to whiteness
Is restored
How quickly the graffitied
“Black Lives Matter”
Is power washed away
I walk this street every day
I know this city
I already know
As I apply my brushstokes
Carefully, prayerfully
Covering every spot
There is no room for gray
Featured image by Rachel Loughlin
