Poems of my Mind

A child cries off-camera,

But I'm likely to forget.

The scenery is perfect;

The photograph is set.

Before I press the shutter

I wonder what will be

the point of this work;

what will it mean

to those who are suffering -

To those who are lost?

How can it help them?

How much is the cost

they have already paid?

And is it enough

just to show them a picture

thats pretty and stuff?

Thats pretty cruel,

and pretentious as well.

Do I want fame that badly

that I'd put them through hell?

I lower my camera

and ponder that thought,

but a child cries behind me

and my thoughts are cut short.

"Mum, look'a' that!"

Its a cry of delight.

They point at the picture

I've hidden from sight.

But It's more than that now;

a new thought has occurred,

and I raise up my camera

to the sky, like a bird.

It's not about the photo.

It's not about the fame.

I really love this picture,

and maybe that's okay.

Maybe someone else will too,

maybe they will smile.

Like this child behind me

whose tears have long since dried.

Art is what you make of it.

Expression is a right.

We can heal the hidden scars

that torment us in the night

through making and sharing

and spreading the joy.

Tell all our stories;

break through the noise.

'An image tells a thousand words.'

Through silence we can scream.

I'll take another thousand images

and teach the world to dream.