Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Jefferson wrests the stains
from his writing on the blank leaf,
fans the finished work like a fire.

All the words on the page sing
freedom, and the ink of it
bleeds like plucked doves
--the paper fluttering like a broken wing--
and the quill lies in the lamp-
light, blacked and tethered and dumb.

"The God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time."

Jefferson wrests the stains
from his writing on the blank leaf,
fans the finished work like a fire.

All the words on the page sing
freedom, and the ink clots
with smoke from the slave rows--
--the lantern's tongue stuttering
the shadows of the silent help--
while elsewhere quick steps tread
soft through the polished halls of Monticello

so that Jefferson can hear beneath
the business of grand ideas, his slaves
singing in the dust about Jesus.

Some good images in this and some stuff to ponder.

his slaves
singing in the dust about Jesus.

K2.