dear idris khan- i cried

this is a poem I wrote sitting in front of Idris Khan's work in the Jeu de Paume in Paris. I was struck deeply and cried and wrote and remembered my childhood.

Idris Khan

Struggling to Hear

Behind all the black out is the beauty still

It had to be built 

First the lines so the people would know

Then the notes and where to place

Then the anchors

Clefs to set the mood

Them to make the music itself

Chingada wey!

All the work

All the love

All the time

And then to black it out oneself

Breaks my heart 

Forced to obscure

To hide one's creation

To be once accessible and then closed

But why must? Who made you do this?!

And then -suddenly- a new beauty emerges

Pixels and points

The negative surrounds completemente and the petit positive is ensconced and shines through

Like the lotus it is pushing up

Creating its own beauty

That may be harder to read by all

But still to be loved

The story of me