Art

is hope.

Even

this expression

of mine,

mining

for 

some lesson

to lessen

my anxiety

about 

our society

and politics,

is crafted

in the hope

that we

connect.

Classical

works

and modern

classics

soothe

with reminders

of brilliant

skill

and technique,

and reminders

of unique

voices

in other

eras

and moments

that still

speak

to us

today.

The arts

often 

define

the times

in which

they were

created.

In this century,

identifiable

styles

have been

reincarnated

and mixed

together.

New

textiles

are used

that last

forever

in the earth

and sea

leaving debris

without

learning.

Our current

moment

feels

inartful;

lazy,

simple-minded,

destructive,

and hateful.

Perhaps it 

is reflected

in the minimalist

fashion

suggesting

dispassion,

despite

passions

flaring

24/7.

We need

art

to hope

to cope

to scope

out 

new paths

of thought

and action.

Hardly 

distraction,

art’s attraction

is creative

extraction

in reaction

to now

with hope

that tomorrow’s

sorrows

will be less

severe

and fear

will be transformed.

Art is

transformation,

which

gives me

hope.