Cramped in solemn solitude amidst the world’s expanse,The clothed and the unclothed see past each other. The unclothed toil—tending, gathering, building, doing the heavy lifting. For how else can the well-attired be fashionable?Command God’s attention?Dance in the flames of other’s deprivation?
That's wonderful. There are so many issues of class and race implicit here.
They Dance but Do Not Smile(A response to Milford Zorne’s Ramona fresco, Hemet, California)Who taught these two to dance?Their steps seem so precise.So focused are their eyes.Who said they should not smile?Who gathers by the fire?Their bodies glow like sunset yet,their flinty faces show no joy.Who said they should not sing?What priest reveres this cross held high with such esteem?Why is he posed above these menthat labor here so silently?What horseman curbs his mountwho yearns to race beyond the hills?They seem as one, a centaur, adept at riding through the stars. Who thought it was their lotthat we should fill their land?That we should shape their fate?That they should have no joy?