By Tiana Kennell

The molecules that make us,
Made of clay, molded and connected by oceans,
Highways of nerve-endings,
Coursing through the body,
Thoughts of flowery ideas,
Scattered dreams flittered away,
The flutterings of butterflies.

A life of gambling and cheating death,
Imprisoned by cuffs and chains,
Freedom in the journeys,
And willing to risk it all,
For life and adventures,
Into the unknown.

These things that make us,
Even as they break us apart,
Water-filled bodies (give life),
Bodies of water (nurtures life),
Water filling bodies (ends life).

What we leave behind is fragile,
First, a point of pride and beauty,
Second, a deteriorating eyesore of sorrow,
What is left lives only as long as the memories.

Together, we set off on our separate journeys,
We travel across rivers, seas, and oceans,
In search of…
We leave what someone else is desperate to find,
The ocean is greener on the other side,
This constant need to leave resides,
Within each of us, lest we choose to hide.

Stagnant ponds,
Still puddles,
Still beautiful inside.

Still with purpose,
Still with a history of origin and formation,
Connected to the bodies of others far and wide.

(Reflections of works by JK Lawson’s Juke Joint Men collage and Fragile I & II Hurricane Katrina aftermath photography at Artspace)