For the Love of Degas
In blue soft pastels she rises in print
her body balanced perfect with colors
a study of performance for lovers
and Degas, no fool, to finish with hint.
A collection of dancers pirouette
to concentrate on body as art form
these studios are safe from outside storm
within his brushstrokes hear a minuet.
To choose to share the world of soft pastel
a mastering of color with crayon
attention to the detail of each blue.
This dancer painted stands like a gazelle
so many different colors to lay on
to every move based on angle of view.
When child’s mother returns to New Orleans
to lie on family plot above the ground
her creole ancestors, without a sound,
will share their spirits and their ways and means.
These are the times when boys begin to draw
to struggle with themselves from draft to draft
and fill their walls with practice of their craft
these recreations of a life they saw.
For when creative spirits find a way
to move from childhood into place of man
upon the waves of drawings thrown to wind.
Escape from pain a way to face the day
they seek a perfection within their plan
their hands extended before they rescind.
For hours I stare upon this painted world
this space I share with my son now thirteen
with energy that I have hardly seen
to fall upon God’s mercy here unfurled.
I wondered how his parents tried to see
beyond the drawings into a young man
his parents fighting forward with a plan
to keep them fed and relatively free.
He chose to share the world in soft pastel
to try to master how to use crayon
through times that made the world seem darkest blue
to draw each ballet move as if gazelle
so many different colors to try on
this shadow where the sun has lost its view.
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