Camera's Broken Poetry

cameras broken - Oct 16

Crisp warm October day
Oange and yellow splashes on the glowing turquoise back
of the massive scuplture.

Breeze off the bay

A row of statues on the left.
These are the do-ers.
They made it possible.
The dreamer
Believed in the idea of liberty.
The sculptor
Created the model with her robes and crown.
The engineer
Designed a giant statement made of steel covered in copper.
The writer
Galvanized the effort, printing the name of those who gave pennies and nickels.
The poet
Immortalized the idea of yearning to be free.

This island was a fort defending the City in 1812.
The skyline to our left has changed since then.
Empire State is becoming clear through the haze. Chrysler still shrouded.
The southern tip of the island is glinting and glancing in the sunshine.
Perspective is warped here -
Buildings that stand far apart are snuggled up close in my view.

I stand
Below a colossus.
Implacable face.
Gold torch high.
Monstrous proportions from this vantage.

Strenghth and visibility.
Arriving today I told my girls about other little girls
that arrived a hundred years ago.
When they saw this lady, they knew they were almost home.

Ships go by in the bay.
People still flock to see the lady.
Holding the torch, toes showing under her stola.
Dreaming of liberty.

-------

As we leave, I tell the girls to say goodbye.
After several rounds of lusty goodbye's, Eli shouts,
"Bye, bye. I wub yooo, statoo of wiberty!"