By Barbara Simmons
PROMPT — The way I see it ...
Don’t read the curator’s words.
They are only commentaries next
to the heart of the matter. Instead, stand
before the canvases, lithographs, photos,
images. Go beyond their framed reality.
Spend time in front of the photos
of children’s backpacks,
of pink combs and brushes,
of hundreds of toothpaste tubes and toothbrushes,
of nail clippers, condoms, contraceptive pills,
baby food jars, Snickers bars, a color wheel of laces,
a labyrinth of belts, gloves for handling brush and
bush, and the glove she wore to her Quinceañera.
Step back. Remind yourself that all these
pieces of lives, these personal items, were seized,
considered non-essential personal property,
discarded at a processing facility.
Look at the words pasted on the plaque, Lazarus’
sonnet created from alphabet soup letters
carried by those seeking asylum here. Listen before
you move on.
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
Don’t forget these items belonged to people,
separated from them
as they were separated from family.
These items remind us nothing and no one is non-essential.
After you walk out of the last gallery,
remember these photos must remain with you,
must walk out of the exhibit with you,
must serve to guide you to be a connector,
not confiscator, to attach, not detach,
to remember art is life. You become the artist
beyond the museum walls, your canvas
an American dream we all can live.
Barbara Simmons is a Wellesley College and The Writing Seminars (Johns Hopkins) alumna, as well as a Counseling Psychology and Education graduate of Santa Clara University. She is a retired educator who continues to write to wonder and hope. Publications include NewVerse News, DoubleSpeak, Soul-Lit, Capsule Stories, Journal of Expressive Writing, Writing it Real Anthologies, Walt Whitman 205 Anthology, and All Your Poems journals. Her book, Offertories: Exclamations and Disequilibriums, was published in 2022. She writes from Meridian, Idaho.
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