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These works by Tracy Pratt are displayed with permission from the author. |
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Tracy Pratt |
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Brown Dances Down
Green pales yellow Then blushes brown; Broken form stem Brown dances down.
Naked to rain Beaten by sun Tossed in the wind Brown is undone.
Supple to brittle Whispers to sighs Breath becomes little – The aching Brown lies
Torn over time Brown finely dies; Buried in white The wind alone cries.
White disappears; Sun warms Brown’s tomb Rain and wind kiss, Make Brown Green’s womb.
Green births Yellow Purple and Red. They dance with the wind Where Brown laid dead. |
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The Blank Bedroom Wall
In a borrowed space Hope and Death daily host an open house. She laughs and twirls in swirled green linen and gold bangles and dangles. He stands silent in starched cool gray and black tie.
She recently swooshed spackle over the apartment walls, and then covered them with coats of white whispered green. On every wall but one she hung something: a small mirror, a large gold framed palm tree, a small gold framed palm tree. At his request she left blank the largest wall which stands an arms length away from the foot of their double bed.
The wall laughs as sunlight tickles its nakedness. It sighs when night covers its nothingness.
We and our daughter daily mingle with others at their open house. A twenty-one year old boy and a fifty-five year old man wait for hearts...Parents wait for a bone marrow transplant to reverse leukemia’s advance on their two year old son’s life...A twelve year old girl waits for a kidney…Our daughter waits for replacement lungs for ones cystic fibrosis steadily squeezes lifeless.
I always wait until everyone leaves, then ask, “May I see the blank wall?”
Death nods. Hope smiles. The wall whispers: “Shh. Be still. I AM is God.” |